


Hollow Kisses Beneath Bitter Poppies

by Gustybv



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Aichmophobia, Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Trauma, Self Harm, Trauma, Trypanophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 20:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1524536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gustybv/pseuds/Gustybv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Universe. A young Marik Ishtar wakes in a psychiatric correctional facility, unaware of how or why he has ended up there. With the help of a surly, yet kind doctor, will he manage put the pieces together before the rest of his sanity is torn asunder?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings will be given as needed at the start of a chapter.
> 
> Decided to post this here along with where I originally started posting it on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated. I want to know what you guys think!
> 
> Yu-Gi-Oh! and all related characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi

"Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much, but you have to crawl into your wounds to discover where your fears are. Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin."

-Tori Amos

 

* * *

 

 

He had not known awareness in what felt like days; so when his mind finally began to travel back to reality it was a muddled mess. First there came the realization that his throat felt very dry, almost burning. Next, was the sense he was laying on something; a bed? He groaned and finally managed to crack open his eyes, only to close them again as the fluorescents pierced his unprepared pupils. Covering his face with one arm, he laid there trying to remember.

"Rishid…Ishizu…"

Ishizu…she'd handed him a tray with tea. He's taken it with him to his daily lesson with father as he always did…

"Father…"

Had he fallen asleep again and Father simply brought him back to his room? Marik opened his eyes again…and discovered he was not where he'd thought. The boy of twelve sat up with a start, wishing he hadn't as soon as the motion was made. The remnants of induced sleep caused his head to spin, and he wretched. He coughed and wiped a sting of bile from his parched lips. Hands shaking, he gripped the edge of the bed to steady himself. When he touched the cold steel, he frowned. This wasn't his bed frame, his was made of wood. He looked down at the blanket and the sheets; they were white, not black. And the room itself was so much smaller; bland and sterile. No shelves, no toys. Save for the bed, it was devoid of any personal effects. As an unsettling lump began forming in his throat, Marik looked across the room and felt it drop down into his stomach.

There was a reinforced metal door; a small, glass window containing reinforcing wire was the only view outwards; below it, a small rectangular hatch. Disbelief crept though him as he managed the strength to stand and walk towards it. Marik reached a tentative hand out towards the glass, as if expecting an illusion. The boy was rewarded with a solid tap. Something inside him snapped, and he began pounding as hard as his small fists would allow.

"Let me out! Let me out…letmeoutletmeout!"

Marik stopped when he noticed something catching the light on his wrist. A hospital bracelet listing his medical information and the name of the institution he found himself in: Kane Hill Correctional Hospital, Juvenile, Ward C. The boy's eyes widened in horror and he continued to slam his hands down on the door; at times throwing his whole body into it. Still the door held, and eventually the skin of his knuckles began to bleed. Even as the pain intensified, he slapped at the door with earnest; blood from his raw skin smearing across the surface. Marik, his energy spent, finally slid down to the floor, chest heaving with sobs. Sobs became screams; and after some time, his screams drew the attention of his keepers.

A burly looking man in a guardsman's uniform stepped into the room. Marik scrambled backwards towards his bed, screaming at the guard to stay away from him, but the man persisted. He closed the distance between them, pinning Marik's arms behind him. He called towards the door and a nurse walked in; syringe in hand. The Egyptian boy screamed louder when he saw the needle out of the corner of his eye, and he fought harder. There was a dull pain in his shoulder, and he screamed again, his mind fading back into the darkness.

* * *

 

What sounded like crying roused him sometime later. Marik groaned, opening his heavy eyelids. He looked towards the sound and saw another boy hunched by the door. He frowned and sat up slowly, "Hello?"

The other boy made no indication he'd heard Marik, so he stood up from the bed and slowly walked over to him. Even as Marik's feet made soft padding noises on the floor, the other boy still didn't turn to look at him. He reached a tentative hand out to touch his shoulder, "Are you alright?"

The other boy stopped, quieted instantly, and turned his head to look at him over his shoulder. Marik gasped and skittered backwards, tripping over his hospital gown. His room's other occupant stood and turned to face him, blood dripping from his hands. There was a crazed glint in his eyes as his mouth split into a wide grin, and he threw his head back and laughed. And Marik covered his mouth in horror as torrents of blood gushed forth from his mouth and eyes. The red waterfalls dripped onto the floor, a large puddle forming that quickly spread towards where Marik sat on the floor.

He scrambled further backwards until he hit the bed frame. The blood pooled about his feet, soaking into his gown. Marik began to gag as the thick, sticky substance coated his skin. His hands covered his mouth tighter in an attempt to stop his heaving, but what he saw when he looked into the pool stopped it for him. The face of the other boy, that same smile nearly splitting his face in half, grinned back at him. And Marik felt his mind whirl at the realization that he was looking at a reflection…

* * *

 

Marik lurched awake, his body bouncing back against something. His eyes widened as he looked down: heavy leather straps were holding him firmly to the bed. The boy stared, dumbfounded a long moment, before he began screaming again, throwing his weight against the straps. But the more he struggled, the more wore out he became, until finally he sank back into the sheets. He sobbed, screaming the names of his family until his voice was hoarse. The Egyptian youth laid there in silence, trying to tell himself this wasn't happening, that he was still dreaming. But the longer time passed, the greater the realization became. His mind, unable to make sense of it all, began to drift until his ears perked at the sound of a key scraping in the lock to the room. He turned his head to look as the door swung open, and in stepped a man.

From the looks of his attire, Marik assumed he was a doctor: white, pressed lab coat, blue button down polo shirt, khaki pants, and the like. His hair was as white as his coat, pulled back into a thick pony tail. Marik met his gaze and he smiled back at the boy. He flicked through a stack of papers in his arm, "Hello…ah, Marik. Glad to see you're finally awake."

Marik simply stared back, his eyes wide with confusion. The doctor frowned and removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them in his breast pocket, "Forgive me my manners, I'm Doctor Hassan Bakura; one of the staff in charge of the Juvenile Ward here at Kane Hill Correctional."

_That's right, the bracelet…_ Marik tried to lift up his wrist, forgetting he was strapped down. He grunted and pounded his fists against the sheets in frustration. The doctor walked closer to his bed as he did so, "I'm sorry about the restraints. We didn't want you injuring yourself further after your episode eariler," Bakura sighed, gesturing to Marik's bandaged knuckles as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"W-why am I in the hospital? I don't have a fever. I don't feel sick. What's going on?!"

Bakura's frown deepened and he scribbled something down in the file, "Your birthdate is the twenty-third of December, correct?"

Marik nodded and the doctor pulled two small figures out of his pocket, "Now then, Marik, I want you to look at these figurines for me. Can you tell me what they are?"

"I…" Marik looked down at the two small toys in the doctor's hand. One was a carved wooden sea turtle. It's shell a much darker shade than that of its head and fins. The other was a little plastic shark. The kind one might get from one of those prize bubble machines they had at grocery stores and game shops. Marik didn't seem to understand the need for the question in relation to his own, but answered out of principle regardless.

Hassan nodded once more, "Now then, tell me which one you like better."

"What? What does this have to do with anything? Where are my brother and sister? Where's my father?" he questioned, voice sounding more harsh due to the rasp he had self-inflicted.

"Marik, answer the question."

"Not until you answer mine!"

Hassan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "They aren't here right now, Marik. I need you to answer a few more questions, and then we'll talk about your family. Alright?"

The child glared, not seeming too satisfied with the doctor's answer, but he nodded in response. Hassan nodded back and asked again, "Now then, tell me which of these two animals you like better?"

Violet irises shifted back to the toys and Marik frowned in thought. He'd read a lot about both of those animals, and he found them to be both equally appealing. Turtles were calm, friendly, and shy. Sharks were seen as the opposite of that: threatening, aggressive, and dangerous. But not all sharks were dangerous or aggressive. A few more minutes passed before Marik finally answered, "I can't decide. I like them both equally."

"Alright…" Hassan scribbled something in his notes once more, this time it was much longer before he looked up from the clipboard to ask another question, "Marik, can you tell me the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"

"I, uhm…I was bringing afternoon tea to father, for my daily lesson. We always have tea before I study my history," the boy thought aloud, "You said my Father wasn't here. Where is he? Is he worried about me?"

Hassan continued on as if he hadn't heard the child's question, "I see. Now Marik can you tell me-"

"Stop asking me stupid questions and tell me where my family is!" He screeched at the doctor, throwing his body against the restraints again for good measure.

The doctor frowned and sat down on the corner of the bed. He was silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Marik glared at him silently until the man looked in his direction, "Marik you…you don't remember at all?"

"Why else would I ask you where they are?" the boy growled back, "Now let me go so I can see them!"

He sighed again, "I can't do that, Marik."

The Egyptian's eyes went wide, "Why…why not?!"

"Marik, something has happened. Something bad."

"What do you mean bad? Ishizu? Rishid?"

"Your brother and sister are alright."

"And…what about father?"

There was a long pause before Hassan replied, "Marik, your father is dead," he stopped, hesitating when he saw the shock spreading on Marik's face, but continued, "Your father is dead because you killed him, Marik."

"Wait…no. No, he can't be. I just saw him…NO!"

"Marik, calm down-"

"Father! Father!" Marik struggled and kicked against the straps, "Father, help me!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, voice cracking again from his already sore throat. Vaguely, in between his cries of distress, he heard the doctor shouting for a nurse. It wasn't long before he felt the pressure of the needle in his arm once more, and darkness overcame his senses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hassan Bakura is essentially Yami Bakura.


	2. Prose with Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Still learning this system of posting. kind of annoyed with it atm...)
> 
> Trigger warning for torture in this chapter

"And even if you were in some prison, the walls of which let none of the sounds of the world come to your senses - would you not then still have your childhood, that precious, kingly possession, that treasure-house of memories?"

-Rainer Maria Rilke

 

 

* * *

 

The china cups and teapot rattled as Marik set the tray down on the coffee table in the study. His father nodded his thanks and poured himself some, sipping it quietly as Marik took the seat opposite of him. He poured his own cup, but let it sit on the table, as it was still too hot for his liking. The last time he'd gulped down hot tea, he couldn't taste anything for three days. After a few more moments in quiet, his father set the cup down, "Get your history book, we're going over the New Kingdom today."

He stood up from the chair and went over to one of the large book shelves in the room. He reached for his history book, only to find it one shelf higher than where he'd left it. He stood up on his toes, left leg extending a bit for balance, and grasped hold of the book. He brought it back to the couch and sat down with it, opening it to where they had last left off. His father got up off the adjacent loveseat and went to stand behind the chair Marik sat in.

The boy looked up at his father, waiting for further instruction and nodded when he was told to read aloud a few paragraphs, "…Pharaoh Atem was one of the shortest reigning kings in the eighteenth dynasty, but despite his short term as ruler, he commanded a wealth of power within his court. There is rumor he had six court officials that were all capable of some feat of magic; each being able to summon strange creatures from stone carvings. The Pharaoh was said to be able to call upon the might of the gods themselves to punish any and all who opposed his laws..."

Marik felt his father rest a hand on his shoulder, patting it lightly as he continued to read. He thought he heard his father say something and looked back, "Did you say something?"

The older man's lips moved again, but no sound came from them. Marik frowned, realizing something was out of place, "Father, what's wrong? Father?"

"Father…" he whispered, eyes slowly lifting open. The bleariness of sleep slowly began to fade as the lights of the ceiling came into view. At first his heart leapt, not recognizing where he was. But after a moment his mind recollected, doing little to calm him. Sighing, Marik simply lay there. He couldn't get up as the straps were still holding him down, meaning his options at the moment were limited. His throat was still sore from screaming the other day, and he didn't fancy another session of that. Eventually, the ceiling became just as boring, and he shut his eyes. That's when he felt it, a pressure in his lower abdomen. When was the last time he'd gotten to use the rest room? He did have tea to drink, and that always filled his bladder to the breaking point.

Violet eyes observed the area, but there was no sign of a bathroom. It seemed the room was meant for sleeping only. Marik scrunched his knees together, and debated calling out. But he wasn't sure if someone would hear him or not. Minutes ticked by, and he began to feel every second. Finally, he relented, and called out.

He waited; nothing. He called out again, but louder this time. Minutes passed, and still no one answered his cries. Marik whimpered, not sure how much longer he could hold out like this. He had enough self-dignity to not wet the bed; he hadn't done that since he was six. Would he hold his bladder so long that he would simply explode? Marik really didn't want to find out if that was the case, and tried to squirm free of the restraints. Balling up his fists, he yanked his arms against the straps, trying to pull them through. But they were just tight enough to prevent his skin from slipping free.

"Anyone? I have to go to the bathroom," the child wailed.

Silence continued on for a few more moments when, as if by godsend, Marik heard a key scraping in the lock. Hassan stepped into the room. His hair wasn't pulled back today like it had been before. It fell around his shoulders like plumes of white feathers. He walked up to Marik's bed side, "Feeling any better-"

"I have to use the bathroom!"

"Of course…one moment," Hassan nodded as he went about undoing the straps that held the boy down. Marik sat up immediately and rubbed his wrists self-consciously before attempting to make a frantic run for the door. That was, until Hassan caught his wrist, "Hold on, I have to take you there," he sighed standing up, putting a hand on Marik's shoulder, "Follow me."

Marik's stomach leapt up into his throat. This was the first time he would be leaving his room since he first woke up here. Suddenly, he felt hesitant. What was it like out there? He recalled having seen part of a scary movie his brother and some of his friends had been watching. The halls had been dimly lit, dingy and run down. There were people lying and sitting on the floor, wailing and muttering to themselves dressed in filthy hospital robes. His father caught him watching it and grounded him for a week. What he'd never told anyone though, were the bad dreams he'd had after the fact. He'd wake up in the middle of the night, sobbing and afraid, but didn't feel he could go to his siblings or his father for comfort. It was just a dream after all, not reality, and dreams could not hurt you.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped this was all some bad dream. That he would wake in his own bed. He'd go downstairs for breakfast, get ready for the morning, lessons with father, perhaps go and explore in the wooded area behind their home like he had done so many times in summer before. A nudge forward from Hassan brought him spiraling back to reality, and he hugged himself as he was led out of the room.

Marik glanced around the hall. It wasn't what he had been expecting at all. The walls were a stark white, the same color as the room he'd just been in had been. There were four other rooms, two adjoining on either side of his; all seemed silent. There were no other people in the hall besides him and the doctor as he was led out a door into another hall. A few nurses were milling about, not really paying him and the doctor any mind. The walk to the bathroom was much shorter than he'd anticipated it being, and the bathroom itself wasn't out of the ordinary either. It was a room with a sink, mirror, and two toilet stalls. Hassan closed the door partially and said he'd be outside when he was finished. He quickly relieved himself before going over to the sink and looking at his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot compared to when he'd last looked at himself. Then again he hadn't slept well in what felt like days. Though for all he knew, it could have been only a few hours on the shots they had given to him.

Marik sighed to himself. His hair was matted. The remainder of the kohl he wore around his eyes was a sooty mess, making him look more like a raccoon than a child. He turned on faucet and silently washed his hands before splashing the cool water onto his face. It felt absolutely wonderful as it trickled down the contours of his cheeks. He did it again several times, rubbing his face vigorously, losing himself for a brief moment. Satisfied that he had removed what was left of the kohl on his face, Marik shut the water off and grabbed a towel lying on a shelf next to the sink. He buried his face into the soft fibers and patted it dry. Marik looked back into the mirror and touched his cheek, and froze at what he saw happening. The Marik in the mirror drug his nails down the side of his face and neck. Angry red welts began to form, slowly leaking rivulets of blood. The boy blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes. When he looked back his face was perfectly fine. No marks, no blood. His heart began to race as he backed away from the sink. Was he still dreaming?

"Marik, are you alright in there?"

"Um, fine! Fine! I'll be out in a second," he blurted out, looking back at the mirror once more. His terrified, unmarred face stared back. Shivering, he hurried out the door, breathing a little harder than he'd anticipated. To his displeasure, it didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you sure you're fine? You look a bit pale…"

"I told you I was!" Marik blurted out defensively.

"Easy…" Hassan sighed, frowning a bit, "Are you hungry at all? You haven't eaten since you arrived here. They should still be serving breakfast in the dining hall, if you are."

"I…" Marik's stomach growled loudly in reply to the question. He winced at the sudden empty feeling and clenched at his abdomen, "Yeah, I'm starving…"

Hassan nodded and put a hand on his shoulder once more, leading him further down the hall. Marik didn't really say or look at the man as they walked in silence. He simply glanced around at the doors as they passed. One was labeled 'Infirmary' another 'Male Ward A'. When they arrived in a much larger looking hall space, they passed by a room labeled 'Day Room'. He looked inside the open door and saw other people wandering around. Most of them were sitting at tables reading or playing cards or some other activity like any normal person. If it hadn't been for the hospital gowns, Marik would have pegged them as average people. Others seemed to be lost in space, staring out at the large windows at the world beyond.

Hassan noticed him looking, "If you like, I can show you around later?"

Marik nodded but said nothing, continuing to let himself be led towards food. The Dining Hall looked much the same as the Day Room had. The only difference being was that there were more tables and someone serving food on the far end of the room. No one was really in line at the time, so Hassan took him right up to the counter and got him something to eat. It wasn't his sister's cooking by any means, but as soon as the lukewarm food hit his mouth, he didn't stop eating until the tray was bare. Hunger finally satiated, Marik looked up at Hassan. The doctor looked surprised at how quickly the boy had finished the food, but gave him a small smile. The smile was not returned by Marik, who looked like he was lost in thought.

"Marik, is there something you want to talk about?"

He shook his head, blonde hair shifting a bit, "I just want to see my brother and sister…"

Hassan sighed, "I know you do. But you're not allowed to see anyone right now Marik. At least not until I finish your evaluation. If you're deemed stable enough, I can get you moved from the seclusion ward to be with the other male patients. Then your siblings can come see you."

Marik growled and pulled on his hair a bit, "Why do I have to do this? There's nothing wrong with me! I didn't kill my father! I didn't!"

Hassan frowned at the boy as his tone became slightly shrill, "Regardless of whether you think you didn't do it Marik, the fact of the matter remains that you did."

"I wasn't me, I swear!" Marik's eyes began to fill with tears, "I'm telling the truth…"

Hassan's frown deepened as he noticed some of the other patients staring at the two of them. He stood up and put his hand on Marik's shoulder once more, "Come on. We'll discuss this more in my office."

Marik shoved the hand off his shoulder, but quietly followed the doctor out. As they walked the halls to Hassan's office, the boy refused to look at him. He sniffled quietly a few times, rubbing at stray tears with the back of his hand. For all intents and purposes, had he not known the truth, Hassan would have believed his pity act. He seemed to really believe he was innocent. But sooner or later, Hassan would find the motive behind the deed. Then maybe he'd be able to properly help his patient.

* * *

Hassan gestured to a chair that was in front of his desk. Marik took the other chair and looked down at his hands in his lap. Hassan paid the child no mind as he dug through a file cabinet for Marik's information. He brought the manila folder over to the desk and sat down. He flipped through to the pages he was looking for and removed them, sliding some over to Marik. The boy looked over at the forms and stared at them blankly. He looked up at Hassan for instruction.

"I need you to answer the questions on the sheet. There is no right or wrong answer, just give the ones you feel best describe how you feel in relation to each question."

"What is this, school?" Marik muttered as Hassan handed him a pencil.

"If that helps you get through the evaluation, then yes, you could think of it as such."

Marik growled, looking down at the papers. His eyes scanned the first few questions. They asked him things like whether or not he was comfortable with groups of people, if he had a bad temper, or if he felt anxious or nervous. He filled them all in, slowly making his way down the list. From time to time he glanced up at Dr. Bakura, only to find him busying himself with something else. It looked like a file for another patient, but he couldn't really see who it was for. He nibbled his lip before glancing back down at the paper he was supposed to be working on, and the next question made him pause for thought.

_Do you ever feel separated from other people like it's you against them?_

Marik frowned and moved his hand to check the 'no' option next to the question. But when he brought the pencil back from the paper, he noticed the other option checked. Quietly, he erased, thinking nothing of it. That was, until it happened a second time, then a third; all on the same question. He erased it a fourth time, starting to feel his heart race. He stared at his hand as he brought it down to check the box that was labeled no. This time, he felt it. A tense feeling came over his arm, and his hand jumped to the other check box, marking it. Marik stood up quickly, pushing the chair back. The legs screeched across the tile, and the pencil landed with a clattering echo throughout the office. Hassan blinked and looked up at the boy. He was looking at his hands, turning them over as if expecting to find something attached to the other side.

"Marik, what's wrong?"

The boy didn't reply. He was too transfixed by his own hands to have heard the inquiry. Hassan reached a hand out and grasped his. Marik's eyes widened, startled upon contact and he pulled away, stumbling back a bit. Hassan frowned and got up, getting closer to him, "Marik. Tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"There's nothing wrong with me! So stop asking!"

"It's my job to ask. I've only got your best interest in mind-"

"Shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone!"

Marik felt tears forming in his eyes again. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home, with his siblings. With his father. But Father was dead. He wasn't going to be waiting for him to come home. Wouldn't be there to teach him. Wouldn't be there to...

His thoughts dissolved as peals of laughter began pouring from his throat. Marik felt his legs give out from underneath himself and his knees smacked into the floor of Hassan's office. Why was this happening? Why was he laughing? He could still feel hot streams of tears pouring down his cheeks even as the horrid noise ripped through the room. Echoing off the walls, sounding even more distorted with the reverberation.

"Marik! Marik, get a hold of yourself!"

Hassan grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him slightly in an attempt to snap him out of it. But the laughter did not stop. Marik looked to the doctor with pleading eyes, wanting him to make it end. Hassan, frowned, thinking for a moment. After another minute of the unhinged laughter, he finally pulled the child into a hug. He held Marik's body tight to his own, trying to force the child into a state of calm. Still Marik laughed on for a while longer. But slowly, the tremors echoing through the boy began to still. Moments passed, and eventually, Marik became quiet altogether. Hassan sighed as the boy's body went limp in his arms. He quietly set him down on and went back to his desk to dial the nurse's station.

* * *

Moving; he was moving along on something. He felt the sensation of something slowly slipping around him. It ebbed and flowed quietly along, a soft rushing sound entering his ears. Marik opened his eyes, and realized he was floating in something. Water, he assumed. It carried him along for what could have been hours. There was nothing above him; just a vast, black space. No light, no moon, no stars. Eventually, Marik grew tired of the weightless sensation, and he righted himself. Much to his surprise, the liquid was quiet shallow. As he sat up right, his feet were able to touch bottom. Marik looked around at the water for the first time, and felt his stomach beginning to drop. It wasn't water at all he had been in, but blood.

Marik felt his throat beginning to tighten, and he scrambled as quickly as he could to the shore, finding that it was covered in various reeds and other water dwelling plants. In fact, he felt as though he had seen them before. But the thought was fleeting, and he pressed onwards. The reeds crunched and snapped under his feet. After tripping more than once over the reeds and his own feet, Marik finally broke through the troublesome plant barrier to the other side. Panting heavily, Marik looked down at himself, expecting to see his clothes soaked red, but they weren't. He was clean, save for drips of water trailing off the tan robes he was wearing. No traces of blood on him anywhere. Shivering, Marik looked around at what lay ahead of him, and his eyes grew wide. He was standing on the threshold of what appeared to be some sort of palace.

It didn't seem to be any ordinary palace either. High, fortified walls, large pillars decorated with papyrus and lilies, limestone exterior walls, Hieroglyphic writing and hierarchal scenes; for certain this was the palace of an Egyptian Pharaoh. He'd seen many artist depictions of them in his history books, but none like this. To say it was grand was an understatement. But Marik didn't have long to admire the façade of the structure. Shouts from behind alerted him that he was not alone. He turned to look and saw a group of soldiers charging towards him, spears in their hands. His mind panicked, and he ran.

Sand clung to his damp feet, kicking up a spray of dust as he sprinted forward; he dared not look back, for he knew the men would still be chasing him. But try as he might to gain speed, the waterlogged robes he was wearing were beginning to slow him down. Marik ran a short distance longer, but found that he just could not press himself to go on. And so he collapsed to the ground, his lungs screaming at him for air. The footfalls of the soldiers neared, and Marik knew he had nowhere else to run. One of the men shoved him to the ground; he coughed as some of the sand entered his mouth. As he spat the distasteful substance out, he felt the tip of a spear head lightly jab into his back.

"State your business here, peasant."

"I'm…" he choked a bit, trying to sit up. Marik stopped when he felt the tip of the spear nearly pierce his skin, "I'm just lost!" The guards hauled him up to his feet, and he squirmed, "Please, I didn't know where I was at…"

One of the soldiers scoffed at him, "Of course you were. Hope you enjoyed your stroll, because you won't be seeing the outside for a while," he sneered.

Marik looked up at him, eyes widening, and he thrashed more, "Put me down! I'm telling the truth! Help! Someone hel-guh!"

The other guard brought the blunt of his spear down on Marik's head, and he felt his vision black out along with his limbs giving out. It was a few minutes later when he regained his awareness, and the guards were still dragging him along. But they appeared to be inside now. They must have brought him into the palace.  _They're going to lock me up. I'm never going to get out of here. I'll turn into an old man, withered and broken. Or they'll have me killed. I just want to go home. I just want to see my family again. See father again…_

Suddenly the guards stopped mid-march. Marik wasn't entirely sure why they had until he heard a voice from in front of him speak, "Guards, what is the meaning of this?"

"This boy was found trespassing outside on palace grounds. We're taking him to be detained, my Pharaoh."

Pharaoh? Marik slowly raised his head and opened his eyes. His vision was still bleary, and he couldn't make out much of the man before him and the guards. Only that he seemed to be wearing white cotton and some sort of gold or brass adornments on his person, and that his hair seemed to stick out at various angles. But he dropped his head again after only a few seconds, feeling like his world was spinning.

"Take this boy to my study. He is to be treated as my guest. Understood?"

Both soldiers nodded and led the delirious boy away and down a different set of hallways. Marik groaned the pain his head getting worse. He lifted it again, finding he was able to see a little better than before. Finally, the trio reached their destination: the study. The guard holding onto him released his arms, and Marik struggled to keep his balance. He grabbed a nearby chair until his legs didn't feel so much like rubber and looked behind himself, only to find the guards had disappeared. He could have run then, maybe he would have found a way out of the palace. But something compelled him to stay, and he decided to take a seat in the chair he was holding onto. There were three other chairs nearby like it, and a small table. A few dusty tomes lay scattered on it, looking as though they hadn't been touched in a while. Marik picked one up and flipped through it; it appeared to be a book of folk tales. He didn't get to read very far into it, as a set of footsteps entering the room.

Fearing he'd be in trouble, Marik quickly shut the book and set it back on the table a little harder then he meant to. A low chuckled emitted from the other room's occupant as he neared him, "You may read if you like, after all that's what they're there for."

Marik glanced back and felt his heart quicken. It was the same man from before. The one the guards had called Pharaoh. He could now see him more clearly. His tricolored hair did indeed stick out at odd angles. His skin was a mid-toned olive, similar to Marik's. His eyes were a deep shade of violet. As Marik's panicked eyes met his, he could faintly see the corners of the king's lift in amusement. As he got closer, Marik noticed he was holding something in his hands. It was a silver tray. On the tray were a clay teapot and two empty cups. Blinking Marik looked up at the king, bemused.

"I did say you were my guest, did I not?"

"Yeah, but…" Marik looked down at the cups then back at the Pharaoh, "I guess it's just…odd."

Chuckling, the king poured them both some tea and handed Marik his share. The boy took it without a word and sipped it quietly. The older man sipped his, then carried the cup with him over to one of the shelves behind Marik, "What is it I might call you, child?"

"I'm Marik…and, not to sound rude, but, I don't know your name either…"

"Is that so?" the king pondered, sounding surprised as he scanned the spines of the books, "The name my father bestowed me was Atem."

Marik blinked, his own surprise surfacing, "Atem?"

"You sound astonished. Is my name that remarkable?" he asked, turning to face the child.

"No, it's not that. I…I've read about you in my books before…"

"I see…" he smiled, walking over to Marik's chair. He leaned on the back rest and looked down at him, "What is it these books say about me?"

Marik bit his lip, humming to himself in thought as he tried to recall what he had read before, "It said…you possess great power in your court; that you and your priests can summon monsters. Is that true?"

Atem chuckled again, "It seems my reputation precedes me. Yes, it is quite true. Would you like to see one, my child?"

The boy's eyes widened, both in fear and inquisitiveness. A real monster! He wondered what the monster would look like. Marik thought a moment longer before giving two curt nods in response. Atem's smile widened and gestured for the boy to get up. Marik did as told, setting his tea down on the table. The pair moved to a space in the study where there was more room. Marik stood, watching with curious intent as the reverse pyramid shaped pendant around Atem's neck began to glow. The light transfixed Marik's gaze, and he continued to stare at the golden pyramid even as it dimmed and faded. When nothing seemed to have happened, Marik blinked and looked around the empty space in front of them, but nothing seemed to have materialized. The boy opened his mouth to comment until something wrapped right around his waist and wrists that jerked him backwards.

A scream erupted from his throat as whatever grabbed him dragged him backwards. The restraints drew tight, stretching his arms out to the sides, rendering them useless. When his body had been snapped into place, shackles near his feet bound them painfully together. He was completely immobilized. His eyes frantically looked around at what was holding him. It seemed to be some sort of metal device in the shape of a half circle. There were four large spheres, two on either side of him. A metal rod stuck out from each. They sparked slightly, giving him little warning before electricity shot fourth from the spikes.

There was pain. Unimaginable pain that tore through his body like the teeth of a jackal: sharp, swift, and merciless. Marik shrieked; it felt like every fiber of skin, muscle, and bone was being ripped to shreds. Tears ran from his eyes; snot dribbled out his nose and down his throat. He began to cough. What came back up tasted of copper. Was he dying? Marik wished that he would die. Just so the pain would stop. What he thought to be minutes ticked by until the electricity finally ceased. His muscles went slack, and he sobbed even as the monster seemed to fade back into obscurity. His body smacked into the floor, but he didn't have the strength to get back up. He laid there, tears drenching his cheeks, turning his skin raw.

And he heard them: footsteps. Someone bent down to his level, but he didn't register it to be Atem until the other man lifted him up to his knees. Marik stared back at him, eyes blank, utterly crushed. He thought the king was his friend. That he could trust him. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't bring himself to utter any words. Atem smiled at him, eyes seemingly apologetic, as he pulled the boy to his chest. His arms held him firmly in place, stoking his back gently, in an almost comforting manner.

"W-why-" Marik choked out. The feeling of more blood dribbling down the corner of his mouth nearly made him gag.

Atem lifted the boy's face up with a finger under his chin. Marik searched his face for the answer, but could find nothing even remotely close to explanatory. Finally, the king answered his inquiry, "I do this out of love, my child. Nothing more, nothing less," he crooned, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. As the boy trembled in his arms, Atem pulled Marik's face closer to his, and pressed their mouths together in a soft kiss. And Marik's mind reeled, plunging him back into the darkness.

* * *

Marik lurched forward, and immediately his stomach protested. His breakfast came back up, spilling onto the floor. As he heaved, trying to force the food to stay down, he felt someone hold his hair back for him as the placed a small bucket in front of him on the floor. As his stomach began to calm, and his heaving turned to sobs, he looked up to see who was holding his hair still. It was Dr. Bakura. And without really thinking, Marik threw his arms out and held tight to the white-haired man before him. Hassan said nothing to him; he simply held the boy there, stroking his hair, shushing him until he eventually calmed.

"W-where…"

"The infirmary…I had you brought here when you passed out. You've been out for about an hour."

Marik nodded silently, continuing to hold onto the doctor. Not wanting to let go. Not wanting to succumb to the dark of sleep again. But his mind and body were so weary, so painfully tired, that he felt himself slipping back into that beautiful oblivion once more. Perhaps it was because the doctor was there, his one familiar in this lonely, sterile place, that he felt safe enough to let the gloomy black swallow him up once more. His eyes slipped shut, and the world became but a distant memory.


	3. Lines Across My Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Needles

"The leaves of memory seemed to make, a mournful rustling in the dark."

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

* * *

 

 

"I wish you would stop trying to do this to yourself…"

"What does it matter to you?"

"What does it matter to me? Oh that's very funny…hilarious…it's not like it's my job or anything, let alone you're my family!"

Marik groaned softly. His body felt like it was a lead weight, heavy and immobile. The sounds of the other room's occupants were slowly bringing him back to awareness. Though from the sounds of it, now probably wasn't the best time to say he was awake. So he lay there, feigning sleep for a little longer so as to hear the conversation.

"…You weren't there. You didn't see the look in her eyes…"

"I know you've been struggling with her death, but you need to start letting it go. For your own-"

"No! I won't let it go! I won't let her go…"

"Ryou…"

"Just leave me alone!"

A sigh, "Alright…we'll talk more about it later then."

Footsteps drew near his bed before veering off to the side. Marik carefully cracked one eye open to see who it was. Through the thick of his eyelashes, Marik could make out a doctor's coat and a plume of white hair. Hassan had stopped to talk to a nurse a short distance away.

"Until he's calmed down, I want him on watch for the rest of the day. Give him an extra dose of his medication if he seems like he's getting worse."

_Until who calmed down?_ Marik pondered. He thought for a brief moment before opening his eyes the rest of the way. He turned his head to face the doctor and nurse, calling out Hassan's name to get his attention. Dr. Bakura looked at the bed and walked over. He bent down so as to be on eye level with the boy as he spoke to him, "You gave me a scare earlier. Feeling any better?"

"I…I guess," Marik sighed, "Who were you talking with just now?"

"The nurse?"

The boy shook his head, "No...what was the name you said…R something?"

"Ah…I'll tell you later. Do you need anything right now?"

"Um…water, I guess."

Hassan nodded, getting up off the floor, "I'll be right back," he said heading out of the room to fetch the drink. Marik sighed and attempted to sit up a bit. He found the task to be very taxing, as his whole body still felt like he had weights attached to his limbs. The Nurse saw him struggling and asked if he wanted assistance, but he declined; wanting to do it himself. By the time he had managed to get into a relatively comfortable position, Dr. Bakura had come back with a bottle of water for him. Hassan cracked the seal on the cap releasing the trapped air with a pop-fizz, and handed him the open bottle. Marik nodded his thanks, and sipped it slowly so as not to move his arms around too much. When he'd had his fill, he handed the bottle back to the doctor. Hassan nodded and capped it, setting it on the end table next to Marik's bed.

"Anything else?" he asked. Marik shook his head no, and Hassan nodded, "If you need anything else, just ask Nurse Mazaki. I have some other patients I need to attend to right now. Try to focus on feeling better, alright?"

"Yeah, okay…"

"That goes for you as well," Hassan said sternly to another patient in the room. With a parting pat on the shoulder, the doctor left the room, white coat and hair swishing out behind him. Marik smiled slightly until he heard someone speak from a few beds down, "'Try to focus on feeling better'…what a load of crap…" the voice spat out.

Marik blinked and looked over at the one who spoke and had to do a double take. For a moment he thought it was Hassan sitting up in the other bed due to the other boy having the same white hair as the doctor. But the look-a-like was in hospital robes, and unlike Hassan, his eyes were a very vibrant shade of green. The other boy noticed him staring and glared back, "What are you staring at?" he growled.

Marik shrunk back a little under his gaze, "You just…look a lot like Doctor Bakura."

"My uncle…" he snorted, looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh! I didn't know he was your uncle-"

"And I'd be happy if you didn't remind me," the other boy snapped, cutting Marik off.

"Sorry…" Marik replied sheepishly. He twiddled his thumbs for a moment before trying to strike the conversation back up once more, "I'm Marik, by the way."

"Ryou…" the other boy grumbled as he crossed his arms, looking over towards the window.

Biting his lip, Marik wracked his thoughts more, looking for other ways to keep the conversation going. He glanced over at Ryou once more, studying him a little closer. He blinked when he glanced over his arms. His entire left forearm was wrapped tightly in gauze. Curiosity got the better of him, and before he really had a chance to think about the words, he blurted them out.

"What happened to your arm?"

Ryou seemed to flinch at his question, hiding the arm underneath his blanket, "Nothing…it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then why did you cover it up?" Marik asked, bemused.

"Because it's also none of your business!" he snapped back in response.

Cringing a bit, Marik mumbled a reply, "I…was just wondering…"

"Well how would you like it if I started asking you uncomfortable questions?" When Marik didn't reply, Ryou did, "I didn't think so…"

"Sorry…" he almost whispered, looking down at his lap, "Um…" Marik fumbled over the right words. He was really trying to keep the conversation from dying since he hadn't spoken to anyone aside from Dr. Bakura since he'd arrived at this hospital. But the other boy looked like he was in a really bad mood, and Marik decided asking him why he was in here at that moment probably wasn't the best idea. So they sat there in silence, Marik quietly looking around the room, glancing from time to time at Ryou. At one point he saw Ryou with a little activity book, doing some sort of number puzzle by the looks of it. Marik frowned, straining his neck a bit to try and get a closer look. When that didn't work, he decided to try getting up. His limbs didn't feel nearly as heavy as before, and he felt a little light-headed upon standing, but he was able to slowly make his way to the other boy's cot.

Ryou didn't look up when he approached, looking like he might be trying to ignore the other boy until he finally spoke, "Why don't you go find something else to do instead of bothering me? I'm busy…"

"What exactly is it you're busy with? I've never seen a puzzle like this before."

"What, you live under a rock your whole life? It's Sudoku."

"Sue-doe-koo?"

Ryou sighed, rubbing the bridge between his eyes, "You'll leave me alone if I show you?"

Marik nodded, smiling a little as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Ryou's mouth creased into a slight frown as he looked back at the open page of the book, "Right…so you play Sudoku by filling in the blank spaces in the grid. You can only use the numbers one through nine, and they can't repeat in either the horizontal or vertical rows."

"Huh?"

Ryou looked up at the ceiling for a brief moment before turning back to the book, "Okay. So this row here," he drug his finger along one of the horizontal lines, "This row can only have one of each number in it. So if I were to put a one in this box for this row, then I couldn't put it in this other box further down the row. Make sense?"

"Yeah…I sort of get it."

The white-haired boy bit his lip a bit, seeming to lose himself in thought before replying, "Did you…want to try one?"

Marik's eyes lit up and he nodded. Ryou nodded back and handed the book after flipping to one of the beginner pages. He handed Marik the crayon he had been using and watched as the blonde-haired boy attempted to figure it out. There was a lot of crossing out, frustrated growls, and a point where Marik looked like he might chuck the book across the room. Finally he managed to get through one row, grinning to himself. Ryou looked over at his work, and smiled slightly, "Not bad…now try the rest of it."

Marik's grin disappeared faster than rabbit with hounds at its heels, and he quietly handed Ryou back the book. To his surprise though, the other boy started to chuckle a bit. Marik blinked and stared at his formally stoic acquaintance, almost wondering if he was dreaming again. But his face soon returned to its former stupor, leaving Marik to awkwardly twiddle his thumbs some more. After a minute of silence, Ryou finally looked up from the puzzle book again, "I thought you agreed to leave me be after that?"

"O-oh…okay. Um, Ryou?"

"What?"

"Would you maybe…play a game with me later?"

Ryou glanced at him from the corner of his eye, glaring slightly, "I'll think about it…"

Marik grinned at him, bounced a bit on the edge of the bed before hopping off and heading back over to his own. Ryou scoffed, rolling his eyes before going back to his book. Marik made his way back to the bed and climbed back in. He let his eyes slip closed, smiling a little to himself. But his mouth slowly fell, as his mind recalled the dream he'd had earlier. He felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably, and he clenched the blanket of his bed tighter around himself. Why did he keep having such horrible dreams? Could what Hassan have told him been true? Could he really have killed his father? No, that was ridiculous. Even if he had, what reason was there? Sure his father could be stern at times, but he wasn't unreasonable. He was kind, caring, and he treated him and his siblings with love.

_Love isn't exactly the word I would use…_

Marik's eyes shot open. He looked around his bed. Around the room; Ryou was still in his bed, the nurse across the room talking with another patient. There wasn't anyone who could have said anything to him. It had sounded right in his ear, like someone had been whispering loudly to him. Marik swallowed, his throat feeling dry, and he whispered back to the disembodied voice, "Who said that?"

The boy waited, and waited, but no reply came to him. A cool chill ran down his back, and he bundled the blanket even tighter around himself. Maybe he'd just imagined it. Maybe he'd fallen asleep for a brief moment. Maybe his father was a ghost and trying to speak to him…

"Now you're getting ahead of yourself…" Marik muttered aloud, "Ghosts? Really?"

Snorting at how ridiculous his own thoughts were being he turned over and stared at the door. As the minutes began to crawl by, he felt his eyes getting heavy again. But he didn't want to sleep. Not after before. Not after having slept so much already. Growling, he clamped down on the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep himself awake. The sharp pain nearly made him yelp, but didn't seem to do much in waking him up. He sat up once more, taking some gulps of the water Hassan had brought him earlier. No change. Marik sighed; his head flopping back down on the pillow. Maybe sleep wasn't the option he wanted, but at the moment it was better than nothing. He counted backwards from one hundred. He made it to about eighty-five before the familiar darkness returned to him.

* * *

A few hours later, Marik would find himself waking up once more. The room was much darker than he recalled it being before. He looked towards the windows and sure enough it was night time. He sighed and sat up, looking over at the bed Ryou had been occupying before. He felt his heart sink when the other boy was not there. He'd hoped to have someone to talk to, but such was his current predicament. Pulling the covers off himself, Marik swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He walked over to the window, hugging his sides, and stared up at the half moon that dominated the sky. The boy wondered, could his father see him now? Was he in some sort of afterlife? Looking upon him with pity? Anger?

_Shame_?

There was that whispering voice again. Marik whipped around, hoping to catch who had spoken this time. But once again, there was no one there. Breathing hard, he gulped and called to the voice like he had before. He waited, and for a moment he felt like nothing would happen again.

"Who keeps doing that? Stop hiding and show me who you really are…"

"Show you who I am? If you'd paid any attention at all, you'd have figured it out already…" the voice hushed in his ear, the feeling of hot breath caressing his skin. A pair or arms lunged out from behind; one hand coming up to cover his mouth, muffling his startled cry, the other grabbed him around the middle, pulling his body closer to that of the unknown person. Marik struggled, but found the other's grip to be like iron.

A pair of lips brushed the cup of his ear as the other pulled closer to him, "Remember that time back then? When they put you to sleep? Or have you forgotten that like you do everything else?"

Forgotten everything else? What did this other person mean by that? Marik didn't have time to process the words as a warm, wet tongue licked up the side of his ear. And he somehow found the strength to jerk free. When he spun around to face the other however, he found that he was alone, and that his right arm was clenched around his middle, and his left hand was cupped around his mouth. Breathing hard, his hand on his mouth shot up to his ear. It was dry. But he could still feel the sensation of the other boy's tongue.

"No…this is just another dream. You're not real. Do you hear me?!"

"Marik, are you alright? What are you doing out of bed?"

Freezing, Marik looked over his shoulder. It was the nurse from before. What had Hassan said her name was? Mazaki? She was wearing scrubs that were a light shade of pink, and a concerned frown. She walked over to him, bending down and reaching a hand on his forehead, "Do you feel warm at all?"

Marik swatted her hand away, "Don't touch me …I'm fine…"

"Well there's no need to get rude with me," she snapped back, "I'm only making sure you're not ill."

Huffing, Marik looked away, back towards the window. Nurse Mazaki sighed, "Come on, let's get you back to bed, Alright?"

It took Marik a minute to respond, "Where's Ryou gone?" He asked, turning back to her.

"I discharged him back to his room a few hours ago. He's fine, not to worry," she smiled.

Nodding, Marik made his way back over to the bed. He paused before pulling the blanket over himself, "Nurse Mazaki?"

"Yes?"

"When I leave the Infirmary, will I have to go back to that room again?"

"Which room?"

"The one that I first woke up in…I think Doctor Bakura said it was in the seclusion ward?"

The nurse tucked the blanket in around him, "It's not up to me. But I'll let the Doctor know what you told me, Alright?"

Marik nodded, lying back down on the pillow. She patted his head before walking back to the Nurses' desk a short distance away. Sighing, Marik turned over several times, attempting to get comfortable. But his sleep was fitful through the rest of the night, his mind too wary to find rest. All he could think about was that person who grabbed him. It had happened when he was awake; wide awake, with no one else near him. He would look back and recall falling out a few times, but it was never for long. When Hassan came to check up on him that morning he felt absolutely horrible.

"Marik, are you feeling alright?"

"Didn't sleep good…" he muttered in reply, rubbing his heavy eyelids.

Hassan frowned, "If you need to rest more-"

Marik shook his head quickly. Though he was tired, sleep was the last thing he wanted, "Doctor Bakura, can I…go outside?"

The doctor thought for a moment before replying, "I suppose some fresh air wouldn't hurt. But I need you to do something first."

Marik blinked, "What is it?"

"I still need to take your vitals and make sure everything is up to date. After that, I'll take you outside. Sound reasonable?"

"Yeah…okay."

The doctor brought some equipment over to him a short while later. He took his temperature, blood pressure, and tested his reflexes. When he had finally finished all the usual tests, he turned away for a moment to grab something, "Alright Marik, I just need one last thing."

Marik frowned, trying to glance over his shoulder, "What kind of thing?"

Doctor Bakura turned back to him, snapping a pair of white rubber gloves on his hands, "I need a blood sample."

Marik bit his lip, but nodded, extending his arm out for the doctor. Hassan wrapped a tunicate just above the crook of his elbo, and Marik began to slowly lose feeling in his fingers. The doctor tapped on his arm, then wiped the area with a small alcohol pad, "You're going to feel a slight pressure here, alright?"

He nodded again as Hassan turned to grab the syringe. When he caught sight of the needle, he turned his head. The needle entered his skin, and he hissed with disdain, his eyes clamping shut. After a moment, he hesitantly cracked one eye back open to look down at his arm. He caught sight of the blood being pulled into the syringe, and tried to look away from it again. But he felt himself almost transfixed by it as his head began to buzz.

_Marik…Marik, what are you doing? Put that down! Marik!_

The sound of screaming erupted in his ears, making his head spin even more. He screeched and slapped at the doctor's hands on his arm, the syringe ripping out from his flesh, causing the entry point to start gushing. Hands flew up to his ears as he tried blocking out the relentless noise that only continued to grow louder; blood soaking his sleeve and dripping down into his lap.

"Hey, hey! Easy! Marik, what's wrong?"

He barely heard Hassan over the ringing in his ears that was joined by the sound of his own screaming. The doctor grabbed his wrists, but Marik pulled away, his legs seeming to have a mind of their own as he fled from the room trying to escape the screaming; trying to hide. There were footsteps thundering behind him, and he ran faster. Pushing past a few other patients and nurses roaming the halls and nearly tripping over his pant legs, he made his way through a set of doors. He didn't get much farther than that. Marik felt himself smack into something, sending both parties on a collision course with the floor.

"Watch where you're going, you clumsy-Marik?"

Shaking, Marik sat up a bit and looked over at the person he'd run into. It was hard to make out exactly who he was looking at through the film of tears in his eyes, but from the white hair and the tone of voice, Marik knew it had to be the boy he met the other day: Ryou. He must have looked a mess because Ryou moved closer, sounding concerned.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? Why are you…is that blood?"

The other boy sounded somewhat faint over the screaming still ringing in his ears, but he could still make out what he had said, "Make it stop…" he choked out behind his tears.

"What, the blood?"

"Screaming…make it stop…please…" Marik begged reaching out a pair of shaking hands and grabbed hold of Ryou's hospital shirt.

"No one's screaming…what's wrong with you?"

Marik had clamped his hands tightly over his ears in another vain attempt to stop the noise. He was muttering loudly to himself, "I didn't kill him! I didn't kill anyone! Father, stop screaming! Stop it!"

"Hey! Calm down, kid!" Ryou grabbed hold of Marik's shoulders and shook him hard, "Get a hold of yourself!"

Marik's eyes slammed shut and he screamed. The boy felt his mind reeling, and he forced them back open. But when he did, nothing was the same. Ryou was gone. In fact, the entire hospital was gone. In front of him, in the dimly lit room, was a stone wall. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the light change, and made to rub his eyes until his wrists sprung back against his own weight. His shoulders suddenly ached, as if he'd been sleeping in an awkward position for several hours. When he looked up, Marik saw what the cause was: his hands were shackled close together and raised above his head.

His mouth hung in disbelief and he pulled against the chains, trying to see if they would give. But the bracers were solid; no way out. _Maybe I can slip my hands through?_ He pondered this for a minute, pointing his fingers straight out and gave a good, solid tug. Nothing. Head hung in defeat, Marik swayed in silence a few moments longer before he heard hushed voices behind him. Straining his neck to get a glimpse of who was speaking, Marik could faintly make out the shapes of two people at the cell door, but not much more than that.

"Who's there?!"

Marik's question made them pause, and a moment later there was the sound of a key scraping in the lock of the door. The boy bit his lip, wishing he hadn't said anything as two sets of footsteps drew nearer to him. Though before he could utter a word, a cut of cloth came across his mouth and was forced between his teeth. He nearly choked from his tongue getting shoved towards the back of his throat. Crying out, Marik began to squirm in protest, which only succeeded in earning him a solid smack across the back of his head. Momentarily concussed, Marik felt himself grow still as the person behind him grabbed hold of the back of his clothes.

Something sharp loudly split the fabric down the middle, and the flaps of his robe where pulled open exposing the skin of his back and shoulders. By the time he realized what had happened, he felt the sting of sharp barbs and heard the crack of leather as the flail made contact with his flesh. Marik screamed into the gag, the sound muffled into a quiet whimper. Again is struck him, and he bit down on the gag to keep from making a sound again. Maybe if he stayed quiet, whoever was whipping him would stop. But it seemed even that was in vain, as he continued to be hit. Tears pooled in his eyes, trickling down his cheeks with each continued strike of the flail. After a while, the pain began to bleed into a dull rawness, and Marik felt himself being lost in a red haze of neither pain nor comfort. Finally, the other occupant in the room spoke up.

"That's enough."

Obediently, the one with the flail stopped as commanded. Marik faintly wondered why the voice sounded familiar to him as the voice commanded him be released from the shackles. He looked up as he felt the man grab hold of his wrists and unlock him from the restraints. Weakly, Marik's knees smacked into the stone floor, and he sat there on his hands and knees shaking.

"Bring me the water and the medicinal herbs."

There was a shuffling of feet as the other person left the room and returned a moment later. Marik didn't look up to see him leave or return, too focused on breathing through the pain; on ignoring the trickles of warm blood running down his back. Someone sat down behind him and spoke, "It's alright Marik, it's over with. Come here so I can clean those cuts."

Marik didn't budge at the command. The scent of blood filled the room; _his_ blood. He felt like he was going to be sick any moment. And his skin felt so raw, as if he'd been wrapped in a cloak made of hot coals. The voice sounded again, "Marik, sit back. It's alright." The other man placed a hand on his shoulder and Marik slowly looked in his direction. He felt his stomach clench when he was it was Atem. He found the strength to remove the gag from his mouth, "You…did you tell that guy to do this to me?!"

Atem's eyes softened as he reached to grab a damp cloth from the bowl of water beside his knee, "I know it may have hurt Marik," he crooned, wringing out the excess water from it, "But I told you already, what I've done, and what I did, was done out of love."

Marik hissed as the cloth came into contact with the open wounds on his back, and he pulled away slightly, "You've got a really gross way of showing it…"

The king didn't reply. He was silent for a few moments as he cleaned and slathered a paste onto the cuts. Marik didn't look at him either, quietly letting him continue his work. Still trying to ignore the occasional prickles of pain radiating up and down his spine; still trying to wake up. Finally he heard him set the cloth back into the water bowl, meaning he must have finished. Marik made to stand up and flee the room until he felt a pair of arms encircle him from behind. He froze as he felt Atem rest his forehead on the base of his neck.

"Please don't think bad of me, Marik…I only want what's best for you because I love you," he whispered, laying a small kiss on the boy's skin before letting him go.

He stood there in silence a moment longer, before he spun around and launched himself at the man in front of him, sending the both of them crashing to the floor. Marik clenched his hands around Atem's throat as tight as he could and screamed at him, "That's not love! You don't know what love is!"

"M-Marik…" Atem choked out, clawing at the boys hands.

"Shut up! You can just go to hell, you hear me?!" He shouted, grabbing his neck tighter.

" _Marik_ … _stop_!"

A pair of arms looped under his and yanked him back. He blinked from the sudden force and thought his heart would nearly stop when his vision focused back in. Ryou was on the floor gasping for breath, the skin of his neck beat red. As the realization hit him that Ryou could have died, that _he_ had tried to strangle him, he heard the voice of Hassan calling for someone to bring him restraints.

"Ryou…Ryou I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it!"

The white-haired youth looked up at him, face flushed, not saying a word to him. Marik felt tears forming in his eyes, "Say something!"

"Hurry up and get him out of here! I need to make sure Ryou's alright," Hassan called to someone behind him.

Another man appeared next to them not a moment later and grabbed Marik from Hassan. Marik tried to fight him off, but it did him little good as the security officer managed to wrangle the boy into a straightjacket, "Doctor Bakura, don't make me go back to that room! Please!" Hassan didn't answer him, and simply nodded that he be removed from the hall. Screaming and kicking as he was led away, he managed to steal one last glimpse of Hassan and Ryou as the doctor bent down to check on his nephew.

Moments later he found himself back at the seclusion ward, the guard shoving him unceremoniously back into his tiny room and locking the door behind him. Marik screamed again and threw himself against the door, "Doctor Bakura! Let me out! You said I could go outside! Doctor Bakura! Please! I don't want to be in here anymore…" he sobbed, sinking to his knees, "Please Hassan…I just want…to go home…" But as he was already well aware, his pleas fell on deaf ears. So he sat there, head resting on the door, hoping that he would wake up. He didn't.


	4. Beyond Closed Doors

"One need not be a chamber to be haunted; one need not be a house; the brain has corridors surpassing material place."

-Emily Dickinson, "Time and Eternity"

* * *

 

Marik laid there on the cold, tiled floor, starring at the door for hours. His eyes and cheeks were red, his mind and body numb. He seldom blinked, feeling like even that was a wasted effort. A small section of hair fell in front of his eyes, lightly brushing his nose, but that too, did little to rouse him from the trance-like state that Marik found himself drifting in and out of. He breathed in, feeling the air fill his lungs, and he held it there, wondering if it would be better if he stopped breathing. Dr. Bakura obviously wasn't worried about him. Not after he'd hurt Ryou like that. But why had he? He had passed out again…at least he thought he had been. How could he have moved without being awake? And why go after Ryou? He wasn't the long dead king who kept haunting his nightmares…so then why?

A shadow passed by the window on the door and caught his attention. Marik managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position and he watched the door again. For a few moments nothing happened, but then the shadow passed by again, this time, stopping. There was a soft click at the door before it walked away. The door slowly creaked open, a streak of light spilling across the floor towards him. His heart leapt, and he struggled to his feet, slowly closing the distance between him and the now open door. Marik hesitated briefly, before throwing his body against the door. It swung open the rest of the way, and the force of his push made him momentarily lose his footing. His knees hit the floor, and he let off a grunt from the impact.

Marik blinked as the light fixture above him flickered. He glanced up in time to see it go out; the rest of the lights in the hallway following suit. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. He'd never been fond of the dark before; he'd always had a problem with moving shadows along his bedroom walls at night. Now he could see nothing at all, the dark almost palpable around him.

He heard breathing in his ear, and his back stiffened in response, "Don't worry, Marik," a voice purred to him, "I'm just letting you out like you wanted."

Marik said nothing to the voice as it spoke to him. It wasn't really there. It couldn't really be there. Just like before. His breath caught in surprise when he felt the jacket on him loosen and fall off his shoulders. The boy thought about saying thank you to this stranger; wondered if it was a good idea to talk to this weird person.

"There's no need to thank me, Marik. I'm only looking out for you like I always do …" the voice chuckled in his ear before Marik felt the presence dissipate.

As the chuckles faded back into the abyss, the lights flickered back on. But something was wrong; horribly so. The lights that had come back on barely lit the entirety of the hall. Some were hanging down by their wiring, and one or two seemed to spark a bit. A dank scent, like mold and urine, filled the hallway that no longer resembled one. The plaster walls had been covered up in clear plastic tarps that were stained black and brown in places. The ceiling seemed to have collapsed in a few spots, leaving debris and dust to coat the floor in a fine layer of grime. His stomach twisted tightly into a knot and he felt his hands covering his mouth in reflex.

_What's happened to this place?_

The door leading out of the seclusion ward and into the hospital proper was missing, but past the doorway didn't look any better than where he was now. Swallowing hard, Marik took a few steps forward to the threshold and looked down the hall. He called out into the dark, hoping someone would respond and tell him what was going on. Silence; no one else seemed to be around. Where had all the patients and doctors gone? Hassan, Ryou…were they alright? Were they still in the building somewhere, perhaps trapped under debris? Then Marik remembered how Hassan had remained silent when he had pleaded to not go back into the seclusion ward. He didn't speak up, didn't let him apologize for what he'd done to Ryou.

Something moved further down the hallway that caught his attention. There seemed to be someone looking at him from the end of the corridor, but with the lights so dim, Marik couldn't make the details out. Whoever it was seemed to be about the same height as he was. Curious, Marik moved a little closer; his eyes squinting to see more clearly. The other person gestured with their hand to keep moving forward, and Marik did so wondering if they perhaps knew what was going on. When he had made some progress down the dilapidated hallway, the other person took off running. He blinked, confused for a moment, before giving chase.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Though they looked back on occasion, the other person refused to slow down. Marik wasn't even sure how they were going so fast. There were chairs and gurneys lying around in the hall, making it difficult to get anywhere without climbing over or ducking under things. The other person seemed to be just phasing right through the furniture; almost like he wasn't really there.

 _Almost like a ghost_.

On and on he chased the shadow, through at least two doorways and past several misplaced beds. He rounded a corner of one of the hallways and saw the other person disappear through a still intact door. Heart pounding, Marik ran to it as quickly as he could, forcing the door open with as much effort as he could muster. Marik blinked a bit, trying to adjust to the slightly better lit room, noting that the light was coming from a partially collapsed roof. There appeared to be some lights still working on the second floor. Or perhaps it was from a sunroof. Glancing around, Marik noticed a familiar door to his right. It was marked: Day Room. He must be near Doctor Bakura's office. Maybe he was in there with some answers. Making his way into the center of the room, cautiously stepping over bits of rotten ceiling and scattered piles of trash, Marik finally made far enough into the center of the room where he could see the hall that led to the Doctor's office. He was about to continue his venture to it when he noticed the same shadow sitting near the end of the small hall. He was in front of a large, rusted metal door that, despite its age, looked very sturdy. There was a faded sign above it that read: Patients Belongings.

Frozen, Marik stared at it for a few moments longer, waiting to see if it would move. When it didn't, he took a few more steps before the shadow figure called out to him, "So you're finally here. I thought for sure you'd given up," it seemed to laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Marik frowned, taking another step before coming to a halt a few feet from it.

"Given up on the truth…"

"Truth? What truth? That this place is insane?"

"No…that you are; that we are," it seemed to smirk.

"We? What do you mean 'we'? There's only one me. Who are you?"

"The one that guards the door," it put simply.

"And…what _is_ behind the door?"

"I told you; the truth."

Marik felt his anger flaring. This person, this thing, wasn't giving him any straight answers. Maybe he needed to try a different approach? He took a few more steps closer, "Look, I don't really care what's behind that stupid door, I'm trying to figure out what's going-" the floor suddenly gave out from under his feet just short of a few steps from the shadow figure.

Marik screamed at the sudden drop, but managed to grab hold of the edge of the opening trying to swallow him up. He glanced down, but saw only darkness stretching out below him. Panicking, Marik tried to pull himself up and out, but his body felt like a lead weight dragging him down. The shadow person approached the hole in the floor and looked down at him. Marik returned its glance, getting a slightly better view of it as the shadow stepped into a small shaft of light: a boy about his height and age, shaggy blond hair sticking out at odd angles, and blood stained clothes and skin. Tan skin. _The boy from that dream…the one who looks like me…_

The other boy looked down at him, frowning in disappointment, "I guess you're not ready yet…" he mused aloud before stomping down on Marik's hands.

The pain caused his grip to slacken, and he felt his hands slip free from the wood. Down he tumbled into the darkness, his screams echoing off the nonexistent walls until they became an undefinable mess of sounds that deafened him. Dragging the fall on into what seemed hours, until he finally collided with the ground. The air in his lungs momentarily left him, and he lay there on his back, gasping; unable to see anything above him. As he began to catch his breath, Marik maneuvered himself into an upward position and glanced around. He seemed to still be in the hospital; at least, he assumed he was. It appeared to be some sort of hallway, the walls and floor made of cold, gray cement. Hard water stains and rust ran down from the pipes running along the ceiling. A set of double doors stood at the end of the hall in front of him, a faint light filtering in between the cracks; a way out?

Marik dared to hope it was and made his way over to the door, wincing a bit from a bruising side. He put a hand up to the door and frowned when it felt, oddly, very warm. Looking around the door in the dim light yielded what appeared to be another sign. Marik squinted, attempting to make out the letters on the worn and rusted sign plate, but he was only able to read a few letters. Seeing nowhere else to go, Marik gave the doors a push inwards. A wall of hot air and steam blasted him in the face when he did so. A low mechanical hum echoed through the room as he took a few steps past the threshold. Large, drum-shaped objects lined the center of the room. Pipes stretched out from them and into the ceiling and floor, hissing as the hot air traveling through them expanded and contracted the metal.

Marik's throat felt dry as he swallowed and continued into the room. His feet made a soft clacking on the floor as he went, making the space feel even more cavernous. He wondered how far back the room went and wondered if there might be a way back upstairs somewhere; a hidden staircase or ladder, perhaps? But as Marik took another step towards the far end of the room, he heard what sounded like running somewhere behind him. He spun around, but by the time he had, the person was gone. A prickle of fear crept through him as Marik slowly scanned for any sign of the room's other occupant.

A whisper of hot breath made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, "Hello Marik…" hissed a voice. Before he had time to react, he felt the sharp edge of a blade press against his throat. Marik's breath hitched, and he dared not move a muscle in response. The voice continued, "I don't appreciate what you did earlier…"

That voice sound familiar; angrier and little more harsh, but familiar none the less. Timidly, he responded, "A-Atem?"

Atem pressed the blade a little harder to his throat, "I just don't understand you Marik. I've shown you so much love and kindness, and yet you repay me with this ungrateful attitude. Why?"

"I..I was…" Marik bit his lip nervously, words refusing to exit his mouth for fear that blade would be driven into him.

When he didn't answer, Marik felt Atem's hand grab a fistful of his hair tightly, making him cry out, "You were what?" The king asked.

"I…what you did was gross! I didn't like it! I just…"

Atem's grip on his hair tightened even more, "It seems, Marik, that I've been entirely too generous with you," he spoke quietly, his hand releasing itself from his hair, "You've become spoiled of my generosity…" Atem's hand slid down along Marik's shoulder, lightly caressing his side as it traveled lower, "Perhaps it's time I…discipline you?" The king growled in his ear, the wandering hand coming to rest on Marik's hip, giving it a firm squeeze.

Marik reacted on reflex, and jerked himself backwards. His head crashed into Atem's, and the sudden force caused the other Egyptian to stumble, dropping his weapon in the process. Heart pounding, Marik took the chance and sprinted away as fast as he could. He had to get back to the door? But where was it? He hadn't gone that far into the room to lose track of it. At least, he didn't recall having gone very far into the room.

"Marik!" Atem's voice thundered after him, his footfalls following after the young boy.

Daring a glance back to check the distance between them, he didn't see what lay before him. A second later, Marik felt himself smack headlong into a wall. With a grunt, the boy fell backwards onto the floor. He looked up at the wall and recognized it as the area he had come in. But there was no door. It had simply vanished. Panic began to set in as he scrambled back to his feet, running his hands quickly over the smooth concrete of the wall in a vain attempt to make the door reappear. Or find some sort of switch. Oh gods, why did he decide to come into this room?

Atem's footsteps were getting closer to him. Hesitantly, Marik glanced over his shoulder to see just how close. The other was about few feet or so from him. But what was standing there hardly resembled the Atem he had encountered before. His clothes were worn and stained; shredded in a few places as well. As he continued to move closer, Marik was able to see his face a bit better. His eyes had become a bright, crimson red. The corners of his mouth split wide across his face as he bore his very sharp, very painful looking teeth at the child. Marik turned away from him again and began touching the wall once more; looking for something, anything that would let him out. The knowledge that the king, no, that monster, was looming ever closer.

Tears began to pour out the corners of his eyes as that thought weighed heavily on his mind. With still no escape in sight, Marik found himself remembering an old prayer song his sister had taught him when he started fearing the dark of his bedroom. With little left to do, the words began to fall from his trembling lips, "Free of nightmares, free of terrors…guard my dreams m-mighty Bes. Safe from muuet, safe from A-Apep …guard my sleep, mighty Bes…"

Marik felt as if Atem was right behind him now, having completely closed the distance between them. Still he continued to sing, his voice beginning to crack from fright, "Scorpions and serpents fear you…guard my bed, mighty Bes! Stand your watch the whole night through at my head, mighty Bes!"

A hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, the fingers digging painfully into his flesh. Hesitating, Marik slowly looked back at Atem. The skin on his forehead opened up like a mouth, and a third, piercing red eye stared back at him. His stomach lurched and he forced himself to look away, clamping his eyes tightly shut. A second hand found its way around to his front. The claw like fingers crawling their way underneath his shirt as he choked out the last verse through horrified sobs, "I shall fear no d-dream…nor danger with you there…m-mighty Bes…"

" _Marik? Marik, wake up."_

Marik slowly opened his eyes at the familiar voice. His vision was bleary at first, but slowly the image of Doctor Bakura began to come into focus. His face was wrought with concern, "Have you been sleeping on the floor all night?"

The boy didn't answer. Instead, his eyes shifted slowly around the room, almost as if he wasn't sure where he was or how he'd gotten there, "Do you remember what happened Marik? Why I had you restrained?"

 _Restrained?_ Marik made to move his arms, but found them to be slightly numb and unmovable within the confines of the jacket he was wearing. That he had been wearing. Until that kid let him out…or had that been another dream? Was he still dreaming now? His mind still felt foggy; like he had been up all night. But Hassan had said he'd been asleep, right? Or had he simply been awake the whole time and had just now fallen asleep? He couldn't be sure, and the thought frightened him. He wanted out of this jacket, out of this place. Marik began squirming in an attempt to loosen the buckles on the jacket, screaming and shouting a bit.

"Marik! Marik, that's enough!"

Marik didn't listen to him until he felt himself becoming tired from his efforts. He was soon out of breath, and lay there mostly still once more. He heard the doctor sigh, "Ryou's alright, in case you were wondering. He had some mild bruising, but he'll live."

Marik looked up at him, relief briefly flashing in his eyes before they returned to looking annoyed. Hassan frowned at him, "I'd like you to apologize to him. What you did was uncalled for, and I'm going to have the two of you sit down to talk about this. But first I'd like to know why you attacked him."

"I don't know…" Marik growled bitterly through his teeth.

"What was that?"

"I said I don't know why! I don't even remember doing that to him!"

"Why did you tell him to go to hell?"

"What?! I would never say that…"

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't!"

"Marik…"

"Why don't you believe me when I'm telling the truth, huh? Because you think I…killed my father? Is that why? Were you worried I'd do that to Ryou?"

"Of course not."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because Marik, I have the photos from your father's murder scene. I have the witness reports from your sister and brother. They saw what you did. Your brother pried you off your father. You say you didn't do it because you 'don't remember', I know that you did because I have the evidence. Now how much longer are you going to deny your involvement?"

Marik felt tears prickling in his eyes again, "Why do you have to say those things? I would never…ever do that to my father. And even if I did…why don't I remember?"

Hassan stared at his face for a long moment, looking like he was searching from something Marik couldn't see. Finally, the doctor spoke, "I asked you this when you and I first met in this very room. Do you really, truly, not remember the events that occurred before your admission here?"

"No…and I don't know why…" the boy choked out, "I feel like I'm going crazy…"

"You're not crazy, Marik, you're sick-"

"Do sick people have really bad dreams? I don't know what's real anymore, Doctor. Bakura! I can't tell if I'm still sleeping or not…"

"…How long has this been going on?"

"Since I got here…" he sniffed.

"I see…can you tell me about these bad dreams?"

Marik shook his head frantically, shutting his eyes tightly. Hassan sighed again, "Well, when you're ready then. It would be easier if you communicated with me a bit more, but if it's too difficult to speak of right now, then I can wait. In the meantime," the doctor helped the boy sit up and began unbuckling the straight jacket, "You owe someone an apology."

* * *

"No, I am not going near that kid!"

"Ryou, he can hear you-"

"Good! I hope he hears me. I don't want that…that psycho near me!"

Marik shifted uncomfortably where he stood outside Ryou's bedroom door. Hassan had brought him with to go pick up his nephew so the three of them could converse in his office. But from the sound of Ryou's voice, Marik knew he wasn't in the talking mood; and knowing that he'd caused Ryou to act like he was made him feel even worse. A moment later, the doctor left the room, looking a bit frazzled. He glanced down at Marik and Marik returned his stare.

"Ryou is…going to need some time to calm down first. In the meantime, I think you and I should discuss these dreams of yours."

Marik hugged his sides, "I really don't want to…"

"I know. But sometimes we must do things we don't like or that make us uncomfortable."

"I guess…" Marik mumbled, looking away from Hassan.

"Well, look at it this way. Do you want to go home? Be with your siblings again?"

The boy said nothing, but nodded in reply.

"Then think of it like this. Talking about this with me will put you one step closer to leaving Kane Hill. One step closer to home; to your brother and sister."

"Rishid…Ishizu…" Marik muttered to himself as he chewed on his lip, "Home…" He looked up at the doctor and gave a tiny nod, "Okay…I'll try."

Hassan seemed to smile a bit, "Trying is all I ask. Come on, we can discuss this in my office."

* * *

Marik could faintly hear the wheels turning on the tape recorder as he sat there, his mind wandering a bit. Hassan cleared his throat, "Marik?"

"Hm? What?"

"You were describing to me what these dreamscapes look like?"

"Oh! Uhm…sorry, I forgot what I was saying."

"We've been recording for only about fifteen minutes, but we can take a break for a bit if you need to?"

"N-no, I'm okay," he sighed, clenching his hands in his lap.

"Well, alright. Let's switch from location to other imagery. Are you the only one who you see in these dreams, or are there other people? Family? Friends?"

"No. I don't remember seeing my family at all. Just…weird people…"

"What kind of weird people?"

"Well, um…" Marik chewed at his lip some more, unsure of how to answer. He didn't want Dr. Bakura to think he was weird or crazy, or even sick like he had called him before.

"Can you describe them at all?"

Maybe if he just kept his descriptions plain, he wouldn't seem so odd, "Well…there's another boy. He's…about the same age as me I think."

"I see. What does this other boy look like?"

His heart began to beat a little fast, "Well, he's…I don't really know. He's, always kind of hiding in the dark…"

"Is he hiding because he's scared?"

Marik shook his head, "No, nothing like that. He just, doesn't let me get that close to him. But he sometimes gets close to me…I don't know," he huffed, looking away towards the wall.

"Hmm. Have you ever spoken with this boy?"

"A few times…"

"What did you two talk about?"

"Well, he told me…he guards the door."

"The door? What door?"

"I…" Marik felt his mind blanking a bit, "Door to something…I can't remember right now."

"That's alright. Is there anything else you can remember? About the boy or anything else?"

Images of fierce, red eyes and razor sharp teeth flashed through his mind, and he visibly shook, "N-no…nothing."

Hassan frowned, "Marik, you're not being honest with me, are you? Who else have you seen in these nightmares?"

"No one, okay!"

Hassan and Marik locked eyes for a few moments until the boy broke contact to glance at the floor, "I don't want to think about him, ok?"

"Who is he?"

"I said I don't want to talk about him!"

Hassan could see the boy's temper was flaring up and decided to not press the issue further, "Alright, another time then. I think we've discussed this enough for today. I'm going to go see if Ryou is up for talking now. You stay here and I'll be right back with him, alright?"

Marik nodded as Hassan got up from his seat and headed out of the room. He sat in the chair, lightly swishing his legs a bit until a noise caught his attention. He looked around and noticed the red recording light was still shining on the recording device. _Doctor Bakura must have forgotten to shut it off, guess I'd better_ -

"He's lying you know."

Marik stopped halfway getting out of his chair, "No…no, stop doing this…Doctor Bakura isn't lying. He wants to help me…"

"He may say that, but he doesn't realize you can't be helped."

Marik felt his stomach drop, "W-what?"

"Well…not yet, anyway," the voice purred, "I told you once before you're not ready yet. Not until you accept the truth, that is."

"What is this truth you keep talking about?"

"You'll know it when you see it. Of course, you refuse to see it. And that's not really my fault, is it?"

Marik growled, "Maybe if you'd stop being so mysterious and actually tell me-"

"Ah, and therein lies the rub. You are the one who sees me as a mystery. You are the one who refuses to see the truth. I cannot tell you anything, nor show you anything, until you've stopped being a little brat about it."

"I am not-" Marik cut himself short when he heard the door open. Hassan entered the room, Ryou following reluctantly behind him.

"Sorry for the wait-oh. Did I leave that running the whole time?" He sighed, stopping the tape recorder and placing it in his pocket, muttering about himself being careless. Hassan turned back to Ryou and told him to have a seat across from Marik.

Marik looked into the bright green eyes across from him, noting that they stared back with even more rigidness than when they had first met. When neither boy spoke, Hassan took the initiative, "Marik, I believe you have something to tell my nephew?"

The boy sighed, feeling a knot form in his gut, "Ryou I'm…really sorry. I didn't mean to do that to you…"

Ryou snorted, still refusing to speak to the other boy. Marik swallowed, his throat feeling dry as he continued, "I was just…really upset and confused. I blacked out. I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear…"

Marik felt tears beginning to fall from his eyes, and Ryou signed in response, "Hey, come on. Stop crying…"

"Sorry…I just-"

"I get it…you were having a nervous breakdown. I can't say I've never had that before. Just, make sure next time you don't go for my neck, ok? It's sensitive."

Marik sniffed and looked up at Ryou, who had cracked a small smile; which, in turn, made him smile. Marik quickly wiped at the remaining tears at the corner of his eyes, trying not to seem like such a child in front of the older boy. He felt Hassan pat him on the shoulder and he looked up at the doctor, "Now then. Marik, I believe I owed you a trip outside?"

Blinking, Marik felt a smile spread across his face, "Really? A-are you sure it's okay?" The doctor nodded, heading for the door, he motioned for Marik to come with him. Marik hurried after him, a newfound spring in his step, as he followed the doctor out into fresh air.

* * *

It was several hours later, after most patients had gone to bed, and the night staff was getting ready to take over that Hassan remembered he still had the tape recorder on him. He decided to take a few notes based on the tape before leaving for the night himself. When the tape had finished rewinding to the beginning of his session with Marik, he pressed play. However when the tape got to the point where he had left Marik alone in the room, he noticed something he wasn't expecting to hear. Instead of dead air and the occasional shifting from a nervous child, he heard Marik speaking as if he were having a conversation with someone. Except there was no one responding to what the boy was saying; there was simply silence.


	5. Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Impalement, Stabbing, and Molesting

"A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen."

-Edward de Bono

* * *

 

It had felt like years since Marik had set foot outside. Even if it was a fenced in area, the sight and smell of grass and fresh air was a godsend. He kicked off the shoes he was wearing to let his toes curl and pull at the green blades shooting up from the ground. The boy walked around for a bit, finally settling on a large tree to sit under. Marik knew Hassan was watching him not too far away, but the thought remained distant in his mind for the moment. He was too focused on the now to care. He lay down on his back and looked up at the branches stretching out above him; they swayed lightly in the breeze, rustling in a mesmerizing way.

The boy was reminded of the backyard waiting for him back home; the summer days he had spent out there. When he was younger, Ishizu and he would play games outside. Maybe soccer or tag, he couldn't quite remember. He sighed quietly, feeling his loneliness and isolation beginning to creep up on him again. He just had to keep reminding himself he'd be home soon; that this whole thing would have to come to an end eventually. A few birds landed in the tree, chirping to each other before some flew off again. Others pecked at the seed pods that lined the branches; Marik smiled when he saw two fighting over the same one, and felt his heart lift a little.

He let his eyes slowly slip closed; the sound of the wind in the trees and the birds calling to each other filling his ears. How nice it would be to grow wings, like them. To take off into the sky, no worries, no cares. Floating; soaring above everything; away from the ground, away from the hospital.

Something felt like it slammed into him from above, and his eyes snapped open.

He was falling, hurtling through the dark. Walls and platforms rushed past him on all sides. He thought he saw figures on them a few times, but at the speed he was falling at, Marik couldn't make out anything significant. He maneuvered himself in the air to see how close the ground was, and felt his stomach leap into his throat as he realized it was rushing up to meet him. He expected the fall to hurt; to break every bone in his body and splinter through his skin. But it wasn't the direct fall that made him feel pain. No, it was the large, metal pole that was sticking out from the floor that caused it. The one that he felt shred muscle and nerves as it ripped through his right shoulder. He shrieked in agony as pain fired through his arm like a swarm of agitated ants. Blood oozed freely from the wound, soaking his shirt sleeve within minutes.

Marik simply lay there, sobbing and clenching his teeth as tight as he could until he thought they might crack under the pressure. He could just barely move the fingers on his right hand as he tried to get his arm to work, but it otherwise did not budge. Slowly, he reached for the rod with his other hand, his arm trembling as though it were a frightened animal. He breathed in, tears falling from his eyes. He breathed out, and attempted to pull. But Marik only succeeded in causing another wave of pain to shoot through his body, and he quickly let go of the rod, letting off another strangled cry.

 _There has to be a way out._ His mind raced through possible ideas, possible scenarios that might free him from the spike he'd fallen on. Maybe if he tried removing it the way he had fallen on it? Sniffing his running nose, Marik slowly tried to sit up. He cried out, his muscles screaming at him to stop moving. But he worked through the pain, eventually feeling his arm start to slide upwards a bit. Marik managed to get into a hunched over position before he had to stop; the pain nearly causing him to be sick. He shut his eyes again, hearing the blood dripping on occasion onto the metal grating of the floor. Plip, plip, plip. The drops sounded in time with a set of approaching footsteps. In fact were those several sets of footsteps? And chanting?

Marik felt a foot on his chest. As he opened his eyes to see who it was, he was pushed back down to the floor. The pole ripping back through his already raw flesh; his screams tore through the room briefly overshadowing the chants of the other people around him. On the verge of passing out, Marik managed to force his eyes open. Through the film of tears collecting in his eye lashes, he could see familiar tricolored spikes of hair. Atem glared down at him, face twisting into a distorted sneer.

"What's wrong, Marik?" he asked, voice coming out raspy and cruel, "Is it this?" He gestured by grabbing hold of the rod.

"N-no…please-ARGH!"

Atem had twisted the rod, putting even more strain on the limb, "Perhaps I should remove it for you?"

Marik was sobbing loudly. He shook his head, unable to reply verbally. Whether Atem saw the gesture or not didn't seem to matter. He grasped hold of the rod with both hands, one foot still on Marik's chest, and ripped it free from the ground; and by proxy, Marik's shoulder. Marik saw a white flash in his vision, feeling nothing at first. But as the light quickly faded, the pain flared through his entire body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move; a ringing sound filled his ears. His mouth was frozen in a silent scream.

Atem dropped the blood soaked rod on the ground a short distance away. The clatter caused the world to come rushing back to Marik, and he found himself able to feel and hear again. The chanting of the others in the room sounded blaringly loud to his ears. His body shook with tremors, and he clenched his hand tightly over the open wound in a vain attempt to stop the flow. Weakly, he turned his head to the side. He could just make out some of the other people in the room. They were impossibly thin, their bodies wrapped in gauze-like linens; each wearing masks of the ancient gods of Egypt. Marik tried to scoot himself across the floor, still fighting to get away as he heard Atem speak.

"Today is a momentous occasion. Let the gods bear witness to it…" his voice bellowed, as he turned to the assembled figures, "As I join my flesh with that of this child…"

Marik's eyes widened, not sure what he meant by that. But knowing what he'd done in the past, it didn't bode well. He taxed himself to get to a standing position so he could run. But as he was attempting to do so, he felt eyes watching him as he tried, in vain, to get away. Atem closed the distance between them once more and shoved him back to the ground with his foot. Marik winced from the force, but managed to keep from crying out again.

"And this time, you're not going anywhere…" the man growled, digging his heel into Marik's chest.

Marik hissed slightly, trying to shove the foot off with his good hand, but recoiled a moment later when he realized the skin of his leg appeared to be rotting. In fact, most of him seemed to be. Marik thought he had looked horrid before, when just the corners of his mouth had become split, but he looked even more grotesque now. There were places of skin simply missing off his face and neck in chunks, showing the muscles beneath. Exposed bone bore through raw, red flesh on his arms and legs, as if something had simply dissolved the skin away. Marik covered his mouth, trying not to gag at the sight, but it was hard not to.

Atem stared down at him a moment before stomping down on Marik's midsection. The air rushed from his lungs and he coughed violently trying to get it back. Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere Atem stepped away, unclasping the cape that hung around his shoulders. He handed it off to one of the masked…creatures, _for certainly they weren't human_ , standing around them. The Pharaoh turned around and walked back towards him. Stomach nearly heaving with fright, Marik curled into himself; tucking his knees to his chest and covering his head with his usable arm. He heard Atem scoff at him over the low hum of a prayer being recited by the others.

"Come now, my child…" he sneered, towering over the boy, "Don't you want to know what being a god feels like?"

Marik shook his head, curling up tighter. He didn't want to do anything, except maybe wake up. Or die; dying would be wonderful right now. No pain, no fear. Warm breath washed over him, and he dared to peek from under his arm. Atem was bent down over him now, mouth split wide, saliva stringing across his razor-like teeth. Marik jumped, not expecting him to be so close. Atem shoved him lightly, pushing the child flat on his back, and held Marik in place by straddling him. Not that Marik had the strength to do much of anything in that moment. He could feel his body freezing up; refusing to move at all. He simply lay there, unsure of what to do. Not knowing how to get away.

Atem leaned his head down to give Marik a quick, almost loving, kiss on the forehead, before his mouth traveled to the wound on his shoulder. His tongue slid slowly across the bloodstained skin, and Marik yelped at the ripples of pain it sent shooting through him. Marik clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to see what the man would do next. He felt Atem smirk against his shoulder before his mouth opened wider and felt teeth clamp down. Screeching, Marik found his will to move, and squirmed, trying to get Atem to let go. But he only bit down harder, even started sucking blood from the still oozing wound. With his free hand he pushed at Atem's shoulder, but the king quickly put a stop to it. He grabbed the boy's hand around the wrist and held it away with relative ease.

He screamed at Atem to stop, but the older man paid his pleas no mind, too engrossed in what he was doing. Marik could feel his teeth tearing into the skin, coaxing the life giving fluid into his mouth. As he tried to free his wrist he thought he heard Atem let off a stifled moan, and Marik felt his stomach heave in response. He continued to tug and twist his wrist, but it still refused budge from Atem's iron-like grip. Eventually, his squirms drew the king's attention away from his arm and back to him. His eyes bore into Marik's as his tongue lapped at the corner of his lips. Marik trembled at the site, and shut his eyes tightly, refusing to look at him any longer. Quietly he began reciting the prayer his sister had taught him, hoping against hope it would make the monster go away. Make everything go away.

Harsh laughter reached his ears, and Marik felt the words die in his throat. He opened his tear stained eyes to see Atem sneering at him, "Look around you, Marik. The gods aren't here to help you. As pretty as your little song is," he purred, touching a blood soaked finger to the child's lips, "it won't do you any good."

Marik snapped at the digit with his teeth, but Atem pulled his hand away before he got the chance to nab it, "Now now…" he tisked, clicking his tongue a bit, "We'll have none of that out of you…"

Atem grabbed hold of the child's face and forced his mouth open before dipping his head down to catch the boy's lips with his own. Marik let off a strangled cry, and writhed with disgust when he felt the other's tongue moving inside his mouth; the taste of blood, _his blood_ , nearly making him vomit. Atem's other hand let go of Marik's wrist, and snaked down to the waist line of Marik's shirt; slowly working its way under. Immediately, Marik was pounding his fist on the other's shoulder, which only earned him a raking down his side from Atem's sharp fingernails. With another muffled yelp, he stopped, gripping the fabric of Atem's robes tightly in response to the pain.

After a while, Atem finally stopped the kiss, Marik coughed, and gasped for air and relief. Never had he felt more disgusted in his life then he did in that moment. But it seemed Atem wasn't done with him yet; he latched back onto the still bleeding wound on Marik's shoulder, biting even harder. Marik screeched again, feeling for sure that those teeth were taking chunks of flesh with them. His eyes wandered off to the side, in an attempt to block out the pain, and that's when Marik noticed his look-a-like standing a short distance away. His eyes widened, and he reached his hand out towards the other boy.

"H-help me…please…" he whimpered.

The other Marik glanced at him, eyes half lidded, as if he were bored, "Why should I? I've already done enough for you. Learn to help yourself, and maybe you'll get somewhere…"

His heart nearly stopped, "Please…it hurts so much-AH! A-aren't you supposed to look out for me? T-that's what you said!"

Glaring slightly, the other Marik walked a little closer. He kicked at something on the floor, pushing it closer to Marik and Atem, "I do look out for you…but sooner or later, you have to start doing things on your own…" he sneered before turning around and walking away.

"W-wait!" He cried out. But the other boy said nothing more; seeming to fade back into the shadows of the room. No one else seemed to have noticed him come or go. _Who was he_? Marik's eyes shifted over to the object he had kicked closer. His breath caught when he saw it was the same steel rod he had landed on before. The end he had fallen on looked rather sharp. Sharp enough to stop Atem? He stretched his arm towards it, his hand shaking as he strained to reach it. He almost had it, just a little more.

Atem's hand was moving uncomfortably close to the waistband of his pants when he felt his finger's clamp around the rod. Atem released his shoulder, when he felt the boy shift under him, "What are you doing, Marik?"

Marik didn't reply; he gripped the rod tightly, mustering every last ounce of strength he had left in his body, and drove the spike into Atem's side as hard as he could. Atem let off an almost inhuman roar as the rod pierced his flesh. As he thrashed about, trying to remove it, Marik took the chance to force himself to stand. He was about to run when Atem grabbed hold of his ankle and yanked, causing him to fall face first into the grated floor. Marik landed hard, grunting from the impact.

He heard Atem standing as he was trying to recover. Turning to look, Marik saw him rip the spike out effortless, like it had been no more serious than a splinter. His eyes widened at the king, and Marik knew he'd really messed up this time. Atem stared down at him a moment longer, before launching himself at the child, tearing into him with both teeth and nails. Mairk felt his skin ripping and tearing, and never thought he could scream as loud as he was. By the gods, there was so much pain. Surely he was going to die now. There was no other possible road in sight for him. Simply death.

" _Marik_."

Who was calling him? Was it his father? Was his father's spirit coming to get his?

" _Marik?_ _Marik, it's alright. Open your eyes_."

 _Open my eyes_? _No…no I don't want to look at him._ He wailed and thrashed his arms, trying one last time to get away. One last time, to fight back…

Marik felt his body jerk violently, and it forced him to open his eyes. His body was drenched in sweat. And…oh no…had he wet the bed? His eyes frantically shifted around until he settled on a person who was by his bedside. A nurse was looking back at him. He didn't recognize her, but in that moment he was just so glad to see another normal person that he didn't care. Marik threw his arms around the woman's shoulders and buried his face into the crook of her neck and sobbed.

"Goodness…it's alright. You were just having a bad dream," She spoke softly, patting his back.

Marik whimpered, too embarrassed and too frightened for words. She held him there for what felt like an hour until he felt himself calming down a bit. When he finally looked up, the nurse pet his hair affectionately, "There now…a little better?" she asked.

Marik shook his head; images from the dream still cycling through his mind. Not to mention his pants were soaking wet, and so was the rest of his bed. Sniffing, Marik looked away, not wanting to tell the nurse he'd had an accident. But she seemed to catch on when he kept shifting uncomfortably.

"Do you need me to get you some clean clothes, hun?"

He nodded, feeling his face flush a bit. She smiled with an understanding air about her and stood up, "I'll be right back. In the meantime, I can ask one of our night staff doctors to talk to you while I'm gone so you're not alone, alright?"

"Okay…"

She left without another word, shutting the door behind her. Marik sat quietly, wringing his hands in his lap as he waited for someone to come back. When the door did open, however, he felt his mind simply stop. There was no possible way this was happening right now. He couldn't still be asleep…could he? The doctor that was standing in the door way…his skin was much lighter, but there was no mistaking that hair; those eyes.

"Hello…Marik, right?" He said, walking closer to the boy's bed.

Marik said nothing, feeling something inside him snap. He backed against the wall, trying to phase through to the other side. His eyes were wide; ever muscle in his body taunt with fear. The doctor stopped, his face looking concerned, seeming to ask him what was wrong. He hardly heard the words that came out of his mouth. All he could see was the face of that doctor; the face of Atem. The doctor moved closer, his hand reaching out to try and touch the child's shoulder. Marik started screaming, covering his head, yelling at him to stay away. He kicked at him with his legs to keep him from closing the distance any more. The nurse must have heard the commotion from down the hall, as she was back in the room soon after Marik began shouting again.

"Doctor Mutou, what's going on?"

"I don't know! He won't let me near him!"

Marik continued shoving at the doctor, even throwing the pillow from his bed at him; repeating the words 'stay away from me'. The nurse got closer, managing to get a grip on the child. Despite her best efforts, the child refused to cease his fit. She turned back to the doctor, "I think he's going to need a sedative to calm down."

Marik registered the word sedative and stopped very briefly. They were going to put him back to sleep; back into that nightmare. He screamed even louder at them, "No! I won't go back there!"

While the nurse held onto him as the doctor nodded and left. He returned with a syringe in hand. As soon as he laid eyes on the needle, Marik began thrashing in the nurse's grip. The doctor grabbed hold of him, rolling the waist band of his pants down to expose his hip. Marik shrieked at him to stop as he swabbed a spot on his skin with alcohol. When he didn't listen, Marik lashed out. He managed to muster enough strength to break free from the nurse's hold and latch onto the doctor's hand with his teeth. He bit down as hard as he could, feeling the surface of the skin pop under the pressure. The doctor was shouting at the nurse to get him off, his voice tinged with pain. But Marik didn't relinquish his hold until the bitter tang of blood filled his mouth. He spat, nearly gagging, not having expected to draw blood from the bite. The doctor moved a short distance away, cursing as he held his injured hand. The nurse had let go of Marik to make sure he was alright.

"I-I'm fine…" he said through gritted teeth, looking back at the child on the bed, "I'll go get this looked at. You see to him..."

Marik stared back, his eyes seeming oddly listless as they locked gazes. The nurse nodded at the doctor as he left, saying to Marik that she would be right back with his clean clothes and fresh bedding. He didn't reply, and she left without saying anything else. Hand shaking, Marik lifted his fingers up to his mouth and wiped them across his lips. When they came away bloody, it seemed to shock him back to his senses. He'd just bit someone, a doctor no less. Marik felt his throat clench tightly as he swallowed. He had a feeling he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

Some odd hours later, after receiving clean hospital clothes to wear and refusing to fall back asleep, Hassan came to see him. And for all intents and purposes, the white-haired man did not look happy. Marik looked up at him, but didn't have the heart to say anything, feeling as though he had somehow disappointed this man. Doctor Bakura walked over and sat next to him on the bed.

"I heard you attacked one of the other staff early this morning. Do you want to explain to me why?"

Marik buried his face into his knees that he had tucked up to his chest. This seemed to only aggravate Hassan's mood, "That was not a rhetorical question. Answer me, Marik."

"They wanted to put me back to sleep…" he replied, his voice muffled.

"That doesn't explain why you wouldn't let my colleague speak to you before that. No one here is going to hurt you, Marik. You know that, right?"

"I told him to stay away…he didn't listen. Tried to touch me too…"

"And what makes Doctor Mutou so special? You didn't scream at me when we first met. In fact, I could hardly get a word out of y-"

"I just didn't want him near me, okay?!"

Hassan sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked over at Marik, still hiding his face, and frowned, "You're going to apologize to him. He's already left for the day, and because of the injury you caused he might not be back for a few more. But when he is, I expect you to give him one to his face."

"No…"

"What was that?"

"I said no…I don't want to ever see that person again!"

"This isn't about what you want. It's about doing what's right."

"And who says you get to decide what's right for me?" He spat out, looking up at Doctor Bakura. Tears were beginning to trickle down his cheeks, "You're not my father! You said it yourself, he's dead! And it's my f-f-" Marik choked, unable to finish his sentence.

Hassan's expression fell, "I know I'm not, Marik. I'm not trying to be your father. I am your doctor, and I'm trying to understand what's going on with you so that I can help you."

"I just want to go home…why is that so hard to understand?"

"It's not. A lot of the kids here just want to go home. But they can't always go home right away because they might hurt themselves or other people."

"Like I did to that other doctor…"

"Yes...what would happen if you accidentally hurt your brother or your sister?"

"I would never-"

"We don't know that right now…what you did to your father, you claimed you would never have done. And since you can't remember why at the moment, it's difficult to judge what you would do outside without fulltime supervision."

Marik stared at him a moment before glancing over at the wall. When he didn't say anything for a moment, Hassan decided to start the conversation back up, "If you'll allow me, I did want to ask you about something from the other day."

"Uhm…sure, I guess."

"The other day, after I talked with you about your nightmares; when I left the room, I forgot to shut the tape recorder off."

Realization started coming back to him. Marik thought he'd only been speaking to the other boy in his head. Right?

"You were talking to someone after I left. But there's no other response on the tape…"

"I…I was just sort of…thinking out loud…"

"You don't sound very sure of that answer."

"He's not real, okay?"

"You seemed to think he was when you were speaking with him."

Marik mussed his hair, growling a bit, "He's no one, okay?"

"Marik…"

"What?"

"I told you the other day to think of talking with me as a step towards going home. If you keep hiding things from me, don't you think you're being counterproductive?"

The boy shut his eyes, feeling tears welling up again, "I…" he sniffed, "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"You'll think I'm even crazier. You'll have me locked up here for the rest of my life…"

"That's awfully presumptuous of you," he chuckled, "I thought we established I was going to help you leave?"

"How can I be sure? How do I know you can help me?"

"I can only help you as much as you'll let me. Keeping secrets won't help you here, Marik. Not telling me anything will only make it more difficult not just for me, but for you as well."

Marik hugged his knees tighter, unable to find anything to say. The words of his look-a-like kept running through his mind. _Could Doctor Bakura really not help me right now_? _Am I beyond helping_? When he didn't respond, the doctor sighed, "We don't have to talk about him right now if you'd prefer. But try to get it into your mind that we should, alright?"

"I'll…try, I guess…"

"Good. Now then," he took a moment to flip through the papers on the clip board he had brought with him, "The night staff nurse told me you had an accident last night."

Marik buried his face again, "I don't want to talk about that either…"

"I wasn't planning on it. I just thought you might want to take a shower. You haven't gotten a chance to bathe since being here. You've spent the last few days either talking to me or passed out. It might help you think a little more clearly as well."

The boy peeked up slightly at him. A shower did sound really good right about now, considering he was used to taking one every day at home. Come to think of it, his skin felt really grimy. With a sigh he nodded, "A shower would be nice…"

* * *

The initial rush of water was like ice, and Marik nearly squealed from the sensation against his skin. After a moment, it started to gradually work its way up in temperature and he sighed. Marik dunked his head under the spray, letting the liquid warm his chilled skin. He heard Hassan shift a bit just outside the shower stall, "Let me know if you need anything."

"Okay…" he replied, leaning his head against the tile of the wall.

He let his eyes slipped closed for a moment, concentrating on the sound of the water falling. The boy wondered if Hassan would be mad if he fell asleep in here. Marik hated to admit it, but he felt exhausted. Even though he'd hardly done anything since coming to the hospital, those constant nightmares made him feel like he was awake. They were sapping him of his strength. Marik thoughts fleeted over the possibility of one of these times, the nightmares might actually kill him…

Sighing, Marik lifted his head off the wall and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times when he saw the tile had peeled away, revealing metal mesh that had been hiding underneath. Tendrils of what seemed to be flesh was spread out along the wall, pulsing slightly as if it were alive. The showerhead was no longer dispersing water, but blood; and Marik realized it was now covering his skin. He nearly screamed as he backed out of the shower, pushing past the plastic curtain. It ripped free from the curtain rod, and Marik smacked into the ground when he ran into it.

Shaking, Marik sat up, pushing the plastic off himself. He saw the blood splattered across his skin, and frantically tried to wipe it off his face and hair. Try as he might, it wouldn't come off, and his efforts only seemed to be making it worse. He wailed, holding his head, trying to keep it together, but Marik could feel his resolve failing him. The boy's hands shook as he lifted his head up. A mirror had appeared in front of him. The reflected image of himself stared back, and Marik's eyes grew wide. The image in the mirror, the blood smeared on his face and wound in his hair, looked exactly like the other boy. It was as if he was becoming him.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" he screeched.

There was nothing but silence for a moment or two before Marik saw the image in the mirror start to shift. He heard the mirror Marik start to chuckle. The other Marik smirked back at him, "Why am I doing this? But Marik, don't you know? You're doing all of this on your own."

"No I'm not! I never wanted or asked for any of this!"

"Oh, but that doesn't stop you from making things happen. Of course, you can stop it at any time."

"I don't know how…" he whimpered, his eyes getting wet.

The Marik in the mirror scoffed, "Oh you know perfectly well what needs to be done. The question is when will you decide it's time?"

Marik felt someone lightly tap him, and suddenly there was a bright light above him. Jumping, Marik opened his eyes widener. Hassan was bent down in front of him; brow furrowed slightly, "I thought I'd heard you muttering to yourself, come to find out you were asleep. You haven't been getting enough rest with all these bad dreams, am I right?" he asked.

Marik shook his head, "…You're not mad I fell asleep in the shower, are you?"

"No, of course not; I'm just concerned. I think we need to discuss these dreams more though. If you keep them holed up inside, you'll just keep having them."

The boy shook his head again, hugging his knees, "I don't want to talk about them. I want to forget…"

"Sometimes forgetting isn't always best. And forgetting doesn't change the fact that something has happened. That's partly why you're still here, Marik."

"…Because I don't remember why I…attacked father?"

"Yes. Somewhere in your mind, is the memory of what transpired, and why you did what you did. It might be painful, and it might be difficult, but try your best to recall it."

"I don't know if I can."

Hassan sighed, "You have to believe you can, Marik. And above all, you have to try. If you don't even do that much, you're doing yourself a disservice," he said, handing Marik the towels tucked under his arms, "Now get yourself dried off and I'll bring you some clean clothes."

* * *

Marik's shoes scuffed along the tiled floor as he walked with Hassan to the Day Room. He agreed to let the boy have some time to himself before attempting to talk about his bad dreams. Marik had reluctantly agreed on the fact that the doctor had assured him they wouldn't delve too deep into details this first time. After he'd been walked to the room, Hassan told him he could go do whatever he wished and that he'd be back in about an hour or so. Sighing, the boy scanned the room, wondering what he should do. There were a lot of other kids in the room, most of them looking pretty normal. Some were in groups talking with each other, while others were keeping to themselves. A few of them glanced his way, but paid him no mind otherwise. Marik hugged his sides as he shuffled around the room, feeling like he was very out of place among these other kids, and he wasn't sure why that was. A nagging feeling in the back of his head said it was perhaps due to the nature of why he was in this hospital in the first place. He sighed as he walked over to a nearby window.

Sitting down on the ledge, Marik noted that the glass panes were exceptionally thick. The blinds that were drawn up were in between them, probably so the patients wouldn't ruin them. Outside, it was relatively sunny; the clouds looking like big cotton balls as they rolled across the sky. A television set hummed in the background among the noise of the other patients, but Marik couldn't be bothered to make out what was being said. The boy sighed and leaned his head against the glass. He would have liked to do something fun, but the thought of having to talk about his nightmares was weighing heavily on his already tired mind. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up. It was Ryou. Marik was wondering if he was in here since he hadn't spotted his trademark white hair before.

"What are you doing sitting over here by yourself?" the other boy asked, giving him an odd look.

"I…don't really know…thinking I guess."

Ryou nodded and sat down on the other side of the sill, "So, uh…I did say I'd consider playing a game with you later. You up for one?"

Marik shrugged in response, "Maybe. I'm not sure at the moment. My head just feels really…'floaty'."

"Uh huh…"

"Do you ever get like that?"

"Like what?"

"Where you kind of feel like...you're not inside your body anymore? And nothing feels real anymore? Kind of like you're lifting off the ground and flying away, but you can't stop or get back down…"

"Disassociating…"

"Huh?"

"It's what my uncle calls it…means something like, you're pushing your issues so far away you feel like you're trying to escape your body, or something like that."

"Oh…well I don't like it…I have enough trouble knowing what's real anymore without it…"

Ryou frowned and looked away, "Yeah...me too."

"What do you mean, 'you too'?"

"Well…hmm," Ryou paused for a moment, seeming to loose himself in thought before he continued, "I just…can't seem to escape from the past. I keep replaying what happened in my mind. I look at all the ways I could have done something to help, and…realize I didn't try any of them when I had the chance to."

"Help with what, exactly?"

Ryou opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, running his hand through his hair. Marik frowned and reached out a hand, "Hey…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you…"

"Nah…I'm fine. Maybe I'll tell you sometime. Just…not right now."

"Okay," Marik replied. He looked back out the window, watching the clouds once more until Ryou cleared his throat to get the boy's attention.

"So you want to play a game or not?"

"Oh! Well…what game were you thinking?"

Ryou got up and grabbed a deck of playing cards off a nearby table, "Know how to play go fish?" When Marik gave him a blank stare, Ryou sighed, "I can teach you, I suppose."

The pair sat down at the table. Ryou shuffled the cards and dealt out seven to each of them. He spread the rest of the cards out in a pile between them. He told Marik the basics through a practice round before dealing the cards out once more. As the game went on, Marik found his mind starting to relax. He wasn't thinking about what he'd have to do soon; too focused on winning the game. Ryou was pretty good at it and wasn't going easy on him at all. They got through about three rounds before Hassan came back. Marik felt his good mood start to dissipate when he felt the doctor tap his shoulder. The boy quietly put down his cards, much to Ryou's visible disappointment, and let Hassan lead him back to his office.


	6. Doctor's Orders

"In order to rise from its own ashes, a Phoenix must first burn."

-Octavia E. Butler

* * *

 

Hassan set the same recorder out that he had used last time he and Marik had talked and flipped it on. The heads began spinning the tape inside as the doctor turned to the boy opposite of him.

"Now then, let's get started."

Marik swallowed hard, wringing his hands nervously in his lap as he glanced around the room. Hassan waited patiently as he collected his thoughts, writing something down on his clipboard that Marik could not see. The boy glanced at the glass of water on the table next to him and picked it up. He gulped down some, feeling the tightness that was in his throat loosen a bit. After allowing himself a few deep breaths, he was finally able to speak.

"Okay…so, what do you want me to tell you about my nightmares?"

"Well, we've already established you see another boy who seems about your age. We could talk more about him? You could tell me about other things you've seen, or things you've experienced. You didn't really elaborate much on that when we talked the first time. Whichever you feel most comfortable in talking about right now is what we can start with."

The boy shifted in his chair a bit. None of the above really sounded appealing, but the lesser evil seemed to be his double.

"I guess we can talk about the other boy…uhm…" he muttered, not knowing where to start.

"Alright," Hassan nodded, "Last time you didn't seem to know what he looked like. Have you seen any details since the last time we talked that you can give me?"

Still reluctant to say the other boy looked like him, he tried to keep the details to a minimum, "Well, he…whenever I seem him, he's covered in blood. It's on his hands, his face, and it's streaked in his hair; it's everywhere. And he doesn't seem to notice it at all."

"And that bothers you?"

He nodded, "I can't stand the sight of it…when you tried to do a blood test the other day, I…"

"You what?"

Tears were welling in Marik's eyes as he continued, "All I heard was father screaming…he was yelling at me to stop. That's why I ran away…I was just trying to get the noise to go away…"

Hassan frowned slightly, writing something down, "I'm sorry, Marik. I didn't mean to cause you any distress."

The boy sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, "I-It's okay…" He paused a moment to calm down before asking, "Uhm…were we still talking about my nightmares, or?"

"Yes, we were. You mentioned before this other boy told you he 'guards the door'. Does that sound significant to you at all?"

Marik shook his head before replying, "No I…don't really know. When he told me he guards the door, he was sitting in front of one that looked like it was shut pretty tight. He said behind it was the truth, but he wouldn't tell me exactly what that truth was…"

"I see…"

Hassan continued to write down some notes in silence, leaving Marik to fidget nervously in his seat. The quiet eventually started to get to him, and the boy spoke up, "Um, Doctor Bakura? What do you think it means?"

Hassan finished writing and looked up at his patient, "Well Marik, I can assume by the imagery and your current bought of memory loss that the door is symbolic. The door could be a figurative box that your memories are hidden behind, and it manifested itself in your subconscious as such. The fact that it was 'shut pretty tight' seems to indicate that you are closing yourself off from remembering. I'm not sure about the other boy yet, I would need to learn more details about him, but you've told me all you can remember, yes?"

Marik felt his insides clench a bit, but he nodded all the same. Hassan seemed to believe him and continued on, "Let's see…ah. I believe there was someone else in these dreams you didn't want to discuss before. Any chance I can get any information about them?"

Marik opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. He drew his legs up onto his seat, pulling his knees tight to his chest. He heard Hassan let off a frustrated sigh, "We've got to talk about this at some point. You can't keep dodging the question, Marik."

"I know that!" he snapped back, "I just…the things that happen when I…" Marik bit down on his lip, biting back the urge to be sick, "I can't stand it…"

"Alright, alright…" Hassan paused for a moment, "At least tell me one thing then. What does the other person look like?"

"He…it's hard to say…he keeps changing. Every time I see him, something about him changes. Like his body is rotting around him…but he didn't always look like that."

"I see," Hassan nodded, writing more notes, "What did he look like before?"

Marik was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Hassan turned to look and called to the person on the other side of the door to come in. Marik felt his breath catch in his throat as the other doctor stepped through the door. Hassan said he'd left for the day. What was he doing back? Doctor Mutou stepped into the room, his right hand wrapped in gauze where the bite wound was at. He didn't seem to have noticed that Marik was sitting there. Good.

"Hassan, do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

"Well…I'm with a patient right now…"

Doctor Mutou blinked, looked around the room, and frowned, "You are?"

"Of course he's-" Hassan stopped when he looked back at the other chair and the child was gone, "…Marik?"

Marik held his breath, not daring to look out from behind Hassan's desk. He had to get out of the room and find some place to hide. Somewhere neither would find him. But he still didn't know the hospital that well, so it might be tricky. Hassan called to him again, but still the boy did not respond. He heard the doctor stand up from his chair. The office wasn't very big, so it wouldn't take him long to be found. Marik glanced towards the door. It was still slightly ajar. Maybe he could slip out unnoticed if he was quiet enough. He quickly breathed in before moving out from behind the desk and hurrying for the door. Hassan looked up from checking behind Marik's chair in time to see him reach for the knob.

The boy locked eyes with him and Doctor Mutou for a brief moment. Heart pounding, he flung the door open and took off down the hall. Hesitating a bit out in the main lobby, Marik bit his lip unsure of where to go. Hassan was calling after him, but he paid little mind. Finally he decided to go to the left and down another corridor. The hall ended in a door, which he flung himself against. It swung open, causing him to nearly trip from the momentum. Managing to stay upright, Marik kept moving forward; his arms pumping at his sides as he ran faster. He came to a set of stairs and attempted to sprint up them, but had to stop when he reached the top of the first flight, feeling a bit winded. Looking back he saw both doctors emerge from the door he had just come through. Doctor Mutou was the first to notice him and pointed in his direction.

His breath quickly returned and Marik flew up the second set of stairs. The hallway past them yielded very little, and Marik wondered if they would catch up to him. Scurrying further ahead he noticed an open door, the sign above it reading 'Library'. It might be a long shot, but Marik decided to go for it. He slipped through the door way as quietly as he could and ducked under a nearby table. He thought he heard them out in the hallway speaking with one another, but neither doctor entered into the library. It seemed, for the moment, he was in the clear. At least he thought he was until one of the chairs at the table shifted. Marik quickly spun to look at it, started by the sudden movement. He blinked when he saw it was Ryou, and breathed a small sigh of relief.

"Ryou? What are you doing in here?" He asked.

"I came up here to read after you left. I should be asking you what the hell you're doing in here. I thought you had to talk with my Uncle?"

"I…did," he paused, still catching his breath, "But…"

"But what?"

"It's…complicated. See, I bit this doctor this morning…"

"Wait…you bit one of the doctors?" Ryou asked, moving to sit on the floor.

"Yeah…I did," Marik muttered shyly as he wrung his hands, "He…looks like someone I've been having nightmares about. And he tried to give me a sedative shot after I'd just woken up from a really bad one…"

"Damn…and my Uncle says I'm a problem case…"

"Hey! It's not like I'm proud I bit him! I just…didn't want to go back to sleep."

"Easy…I was joking…" Ryou sighed, his face softening a bit.

Marik looked at him a moment before he replied, "Your jokes aren't very funny…or nice."

"So I've been told…"

The boys sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Ryou spoke up again, "So who was the doctor you bit?"

"Well…I don't know his first name, but…Hassan and the nurse who helped me last night called him Doctor Mutou."

"Oh damn… Doctor Mutou's not that bad of a guy. I've talked with him a few times and he's cool."

"Yeah well…if you'd had the nightmares I had, you wouldn't have been so sure yourself."

"What do you mean?"

Marik swallowed, his throat feeling dry just from thinking about the bad dream, "Do you ever go to sleep and not realize you are? You still feel like you're awake. Still feel pain? That's how my dreams are now…I can't even tell what's real sometimes. When Doctor Mutou walked into my room after I had woken up, I thought for sure I was still trapped in the dream. Heck, I could be dreaming right now and not even know it…" he chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair, "He looks…just like the man…no, the monster, who's been tormenting me whenever I dream."

"You could have seen him before at some point while you were awake?"

Marik shook his head and hugged his knees, "No…I've been dreaming about this…thing…since I first got here. Before I'd even seen Doctor Mutou. And I was hoping I'd never have to again, until he stepped into Hassan's office…"

"Ah…so that's why you're up here."

"Yeah," the olive-skinned boy replied, nodding.

"I see. And, not to sound like my Uncle or anything, but have you told him about this thing that keeps trying to hurt you in your dreams?"

"Well…a little…"

"What's 'a little'?"

"Just that he's there. He doesn't know what he's done or what he looks like…and now that I know he looks like one of the doctor's I don't think I can tell him. He'll just think I'm crazier…"

Ryou gazed sadly at the other boy in front of him, "Hey, I know I'm not the best example since I always get into fights with him, but my Uncle isn't the type to judge like that. It's part of his job for one thing; for another he genuinely tries his best to help his patients. Even if they are…difficult like I am."

"You might be right…but I still have a hard time feeling like I can trust anyone around here. None of them really know what I'm going through, no matter how hard they try to understand…"

Ryou nodded, rubbing his left arm self-consciously. Marik noticed that it was still bandaged, and wanted to ask about it again, but decided it better not to. After all, Ryou looked like he was finally getting more comfortable around him. He didn't want the other boy to think him rude. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Now that his heart had slowed, he noticed his body felt heavy. Like the earth was pulling him into it. It was no doubt because of the little amount of sleep he had been getting.

"Hey, you alright?"

Marik looked up at Ryou and nodded, "Yeah just…finally feeling how much sleep I've actually gotten."

"Now that I can understand," the white-haired boy replied with a smile.

Marik returned the smile until he heard two sets of footsteps enter the library. He froze and looked towards the door. Hassan and Doctor Mutou had just entered the room; the former looking right at him. Panic leapt through him and he scrambled out from under the table and attempted to make a break for the door. But as he attempted to push past the two adults, he felt Hassan grab hold of his left arm. The child screamed and tried to pull free, but the doctor gripped him tighter. Ryou watched the scene quietly from his seat at the table; his eyes shifting between the two doctors and Marik. Marik looked up at Doctor Bakura, eyes tearing up with anger and fear. Hassan returned his gaze with a glare of his own.

"I've had just about enough of this, Marik! First you attacked my nephew, then a member of hospital staff. Now you run away during a therapy session. You mind telling me what's going on?"

Marik shook his head, still trying to free his arm when he heard Doctor Mutou speak up.

"Hassan, ease up on him, he's just a kid…"

"You stay out of this Yugi; it's not your concern. He is my patient, and I will deal with him."

Yugi frowned, holding up his still bandaged hand, "Oh yes. Clearly his biting of my hand was none of my concern."

He looked over at the boy still in Hassan's hold and walked closer to him. Marik looked up at him when Yugi bent down to his level. Hurriedly, he ducked behind Hassan, using him as a shield.

"Marik, you know I'm not here to hurt you, right?"

Marik shut his eyes tight, burying his face into the folds of Doctor Bakura's white coat. He heard Hassan sigh as he did so, the doctor letting go of his arm and stepping to the side. The boy looked up at him. Doctor Bakura looked back, his arms folded over his chest; a frown set deep in his face.

"I believe I told you that you were going to apologize?"

Marik looked over at Doctor Mutou, feeling his body trembling. He hugged his sides to get the feeling to stop, but it persisted. He didn't want to speak to the man, let alone apologize. Marik turned away feeling like his entire being was vibrating. A low chuckle rumbled in his ears. It got progressively louder until his ears began to ring with the reverberation. Marik clamped his hands over his ears, whimpering softly to himself. His head began to feel foggy. As if it was slowly being enveloped by a sheet of cotton.

"Marik, enough with this avoidance behavior…turn around and apologize."

His whole body was numb. Like he was still in it, but all feeling had suddenly vanished. Almost as if he was being held by someone. Marik wondered if he should have been more concerned in that moment, but he felt too content to care. To not feel anything was far too comfortable.

"Marik, I won't ask again…" he heard Hassan warn, his tone very stern.

The words tumbled from his mouth before he even realized he was speaking, "Just fuck off already you shitty, excuse of a doctor…"

"E-excuse me?!" Hassan said, taken aback.

Marik sensed his body turning around, the doctors coming into view. His lips curled upwards into a sneer.

"You think you can help me? No one in this damn place even knows what goes on in my head. You're just fumbling around in the dark, hoping the answer will leap out at you! Well I've got an answer for you right here," the boy growled, lifting his hands up to his face. "You. Can't. Help. Me!"

As the last four words left his lips, Marik began to rake his nails hard down the sides of his face. The fresh pain began to clear the fog in his head, but he found that he still couldn't control his arms. He felt his heart leap in fear, and he began to scream; his nails digging even further into his skin. Tears poured from his eyes, mixing with the tickles of blood that began to flow from the scratches. Hassan rushed over and grabbed hold of his hands, pulling them off his face. Marik squirmed, trying to pull his hands free, but the doctor didn't relinquish his hold.

"Stop touching me!" he screeched.

"Not until you've calmed down!" Hassan shouted back.

Marik shrunk back under the doctor's tone, trying to curl into himself and hide. But Doctor Bakura wouldn't let him, holding the child's body firmly in place. After a time, Marik realized his fighting was getting him nowhere, and he simply began to sob. Hassan said nothing to him in the moments that followed. He didn't speak until Marik started to calm down.

"Yugi, go get some gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and antiseptic ointment, would you?" He looked down at the skin and blood stuck under Marik's finger nails and grimaced, "And a pair of nail clippers while you're at it…"

Doctor Mutou nodded and left the library. Ryou continued to watch his uncle and Marik in silence as the older man examined the scratches.

"Marik, why did you do this to yourself?"

"I…don't know," he sniffed, trying to rub his nose on his hand that the doctor was still holding tight to.

"No touching your face…I want to get it cleaned up."

Marik gave a small nod and sniffed again, "It hurts. How bad are they?"

"Bad enough, Marik," Hassan sighed, "I think it best that tonight I have you put on watch."

"Watch?"

"I don't want you hurting yourself again so I'm going to have the nursing staff keep checking in on you."

"I don't need-"

"Marik, you're not arguing with me on this. It's for your own good."

The boy sighed and looked down, "Fine…"

Hassan let go of one of his hands to pat the top of the child's head, "It's going to be alright…"

"No it's not…everything is getting worse…"

"Have some faith in me will you? I'm going to help you through this. I promise."

A chair scrapped harshly across the floor drawing Hassan's attention to his nephew. Ryou shut the book he had been flipping through before he headed for the exit without a word to either of them.

"Ryou? What's the-"

At that moment, Doctor Mutou came back into the room carrying the supplies that Hassan had asked for; nearly getting run over by the teen in the process. He blinked before turning back to his associate and the young boy. Marik shrunk back a bit when Hassan stood up to get the items from him. He thought he heard Doctor Bakura say something about Ryou before Yugi nodded and left the room again. Hassan went back to Marik and bent down.

"I'm going to need you to close your eyes for a bit. This will probably sting."

Marik nodded and did as he was told. There was a pause as the doctor poured something onto the gauze pad before he started dabbing at the cuts. Marik flinched, clenching his teeth to keep himself from crying out. The burning continued on for a few moments longer before Hassan told him he could open his eyes. The doctor reached for the tube of ointment and gently applied it to the scratches before taking some of the gauze pads and taping them over the wounds to keep them clean.

"There we go," Hassan sighed, patting Marik's head; only to have the boy swat it away.

"I'm not a dog…stop doing that all the time."

Doctor Bakura frowned at the comment, but said nothing in response. He took hold of the Boy's wrist and told him to hold out his fingers. Marik did so reluctantly and looked off to the side as Hassan first cleaned the blood off his fingers then proceeded to trim his nails down to the quick. When he had finished the doctor stood back up and looked towards the door. His face taking on a somewhat worried expression, and Marik idly wondered if he was thinking about his nephew, but he didn't care enough at that moment to ask. The boy started walking towards the door, not wanting to be in the library any longer when his doctor spoke up.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere really…just don't want to be here…"

"Fine then, I'll take you back to your room. Try and get some rest since you've been sleeping so little."

"Yeah, sure…" Marik muttered.

He highly doubted that sleep would bring him any sort of comfort or peace. He would give anything to not dream again. He wondered how long he could go without sleeping. Marik decided he'd give it a try when he returned to the small cell of a room he had been given. What other choice did he really have? He had to do something to stop the nightmares. Doctor Bakura nudged his arm, and he started walking.


	7. Tangled Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: injections, stabbing, gore, and molesting

"Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!"

― John Irving, _A Prayer for Owen Meany_

* * *

 

The door to his room shut behind him, followed by the quiet clicking of a key in the lock. Marik sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, running through ideas to keep himself awake. There wasn't a whole lot that he could do; nothing to read, nothing to look at except for the bland walls and sorry excuse for a bed. He paced from one wall to the next, desperate to not let his mind succumb to sleep. He sat down in the middle of the floor, tracing the inconsistencies with his eyes and finding patterns among them. Faces, animals, objects, people he knew and places he'd been. But after a time, that too began to cause his weary mind to tire and he stopped.

A nurse stopped by at some point and slipped a tray of food for him through the slot in the door and told him to just push it back through when he was done. He nodded and took the food without a word, sitting down with the tray on the floor. He nibbled at the meal quietly, not feeling very hungry, and wondered how long he'd be stuck in here. When he had finished, he returned to the door and handed the tray back. The nurse asked him a few questions on how he was feeling, and even came in to check him to make sure he hadn't scratched himself anymore or tried something worse. When she had deemed him alright, the nurse left, leaving Marik alone in his cold, lonely cell once more.

Another hour or two passed, and the boy felt his eyes begging to be shut. Once or twice he would for a few seconds before promptly snapping them back open. A brief pain prickled through the scratches on his face, making him wince a bit before the tingle subsided. Marik touched the gauze still covering the wounds with a sigh, wanting to take them off. One was covering his eye partially, and he wanted it gone from his line of sight. But he knew as soon as he took it off, he wouldn't hear the end of it from Hassan. And the doctor's reprimands were the last thing he wanted right now. Growling, he sat up from where he was laying on the floor and went to the door. The boy pressed his face close to the glass, attempting to figure out what time of day it was. But there were no outside windows in the small hallway of the seclusion ward, and no nurses around to ask the time. Marik turned from the window and slid down to the floor.

_I don't know if I can do this…_

"I've got to…I'll go insane if I fall asleep again…"

_Then again…I might already be…_

Swallowing what felt like a bit of bile swimming back up his throat, he stood up and headed to his bed. While sleep was not an option at the moment, he would rather lay some place comfortable than the floor while he waited for Doctor Bakura to return.

Marik didn't realize just how long he'd been starring at the wall, back turned to the door, until the click of the lock told him Hassan was back. He didn't move in response to the noise until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a bit before turning to look up at the man.

"Wanted to see how you were doing before I head home for the day."

"Head home?"

Hassan nodded, "My shift ends at eight. Do you need anything before I leave?"

"I'm fine," the boy grunted, turning away.

"Did you rest at all?"

"Yeah, sure," Marik lied.

"Marik?"

The boy didn't respond, and Hassan sighed at him, "I'll be back to check on you in the morning. Doctor Mutou will be in to check on you every now and then for the rest of the evening. Don't give him a hard time, alright? Or we'll be having another talk about it tomorrow."

"I'll think about it…"

Hassan rubbed his temples before turning for the door. He heard the man call out a goodnight to him before the door shut with a clunk. Marik rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He frowned as a thought occurred to him. He had forgotten to ask Hassan if he could go to the Day Room to do something. Anything would have been better than endlessly staring at the light fixture or the floor tiles. But now he was stuck here until Doctor Mutou came back. And he doubted asking him would yield in a yes, so that option was out. So until Hassan came back the next morning then. Who knew how long that would be?

Much to Marik's great displeasure, Doctor Mutou did show up to check on him, with Nurse Mazaki in toe, about an hour or so later . When he approached the bed, Marik's body became taught with fear and anger. The doctor sighed before he spoke up, "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot the other night, but I was hoping we could change that."

Marik glared at him from where he sat on the bed and said nothing. He and Doctor Mutou stared at each other in silence for a few minutes before Marik finally decided to speak, "There is nothing you can say that will make me want to talk to you. I'm fine, so just leave me alone…"

"Please try to work with me here…I'm not out to hurt you, Marik, I just want to help you get better."

"So does Doctor Bakura, and look how good of a job he's been doing 'helping' me…"

"The path to healing is a two way street. He told me you've been giving him a hard time."

"Yeah, so what?"

"If you give him and me a chance to do our jobs, there's a good chance you'll get out of here sooner."

"I doubt that…"

"Why do you say that, Marik?" Doctor Mutou asked with a frown.

"No one can help me…" he muttered, self-consciously rubbing at one of the bandage on his cheek.

"That's only true if you believe it," he frowned, rubbing his head, "Do you need anything right now?"

"I need for you to leave me alone…"

"There's no need for the attitude-"

"It's alright Anzu," Yugi said with a sigh, "One of us will be back to check on you in an hour."

Marik nodded without another word as the pair left him to his own thoughts once more. He flopped over onto his side, clamping his eyes shut. He busied his weary mind with thoughts of his siblings to try and stay awake. He had to get back to them; had to see them again. One way or another, he would get out of this hospital.

* * *

The next several hours began to blur together, and before Marik had scarcely realized, it was morning. He knew this because after having Nurse Mazaki check up on him several times, it was Hassan who opened the door this time.

"I see you've managed to behave yourself while I was gone. Are you feeling any better today, today?"

"I guess…not as tired anymore," he muttered.

Hassan nodded, and sat down on the edge of the bed with him. He set down the medical kit he had tucked under his arm and went about removing the old gauze from Marik's face. He lifted the boy's chin a bit, turning it from side to side looking at the scratches, "I think we'll leave these covered for one more day then let them get some air."

Marik said nothing, letting him bandage his face in silence. When he was finished and packing up the kit, he asked the boy if he was hungry. Marik merely shrugged, not really feeling like he wanted to eat despite the mild ache in his stomach. Hassan sighed and regarded him a moment before he spoke again, "After yesterday's fuss, I think I'll hold off on talking to you until tomorrow. You can have the rest of the day for yourself. Sound good?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

The doctor nodded and stood up, "Well, you know where the cafeteria and the day room is, right? I have some other business I have to attend to today, but I trust you can handle getting yourself food?"

Marik gave him a look and headed for the open door without another word. As he was walking away he heard the Doctor say he'd check back with him before he left for the night and make sure he was back in his room for the night. The boy gave a curt nod and continued on his way. He supposed he should try to at least scarf something down while he was up.

* * *

Marik entered the day room and immediately scoured it for the familiar, white puff of hair that belonged to Ryou. Sure enough, he was there, tucked into a corner by himself. He seemed to be writing something in a notebook. What it was, Marik couldn't be sure, but he was curious to find out. As he approached the table the teen was sitting at, Marik called out to him with a hello. Ryou looked up and quietly shut his notebook, regarding Marik with a slight glare.

"What do you want?" He asked coldly.

Marik's face fell a bit when Ryou addressed him so bitterly, "I…just thought we could hang out or whatever. Something wrong?"

"Nothing you need be concerned about…" He snorted, getting up from his seat.

Ryou pushed past Marik, heading for the door, when he heard the other's footfalls following beside him, "Wait a second! You don't have to tell me, but don't just leave…"

"Fuck off, kid, I was busy doing something before you interrupted me. And I don't like having an audience for it. So go do something else!"

Ryou didn't give him a second glance as he left the room, and Marik felt his heart ache with loneliness. He sniffed a bit, trying to stop himself from crying in front of everyone when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Marik turned around and saw a girl standing behind him. She couldn't have been much older than him. Same hair color too, only a shade or two darker, hanging freely down to her waist. There was a stuffed bear in overalls tucked under her right arm. She gazed at him a moment, adjusted the glasses that were resting on the bridge of her nose.

"You're the new kid around here, right?"

"Well, I…guess?"

"Someone should have probably told you before. Ryou doesn't like being disturbed when he's writing in his journal."

"I gathered that much, but why?"

"Well…you didn't hear it from me, but I think he writes to his little sister in it."

"His sister? Why? Does she not get to come visit him?"

The girl shook her head, "She can't."

Marik frowned, "Why not?"

"I think she's dead…"

Mairk's eyes widened a bit. Ryou's sister was dead? _Is that why he's here in the hospital?_

"Poor Ryou…"

"Yeah so, just remember that next time. I'm sure he'll cool off soon. He always does."

"Okay…thanks, I guess."

She nodded, holding the bear up from under her arm. She grinned at it, her voice taking on a much more childish air when she spoke to the toy, "Come on Teddy, let's go get some markers from the nursing station and draw Ryou a picture to cheer him up!"

Marik blinked, watching her skip away, hoping she was right. He sighed and plopped himself on a chair. Now what was he going to do the rest of the day? _Maybe I should go find Ryou and apologize? No, I should leave him alone. I don't want to make him even madder. I should at least explain to him I didn't mean any harm though._ Marik glanced back over at the girl with the bear, now happily scribbling something onto a sheet of paper. Maybe she would know where Ryou had gone?

He got up and sent over to her, "Hey, uhm…girl."

She looked up at him, frowning a bit, "I have a name, you know!"

"Well you never told me your name…"

"You never told me yours, either. It's Rebecca, for your information…" She huffed.

"Marik. Look, Rebecca…do you know where Ryou would have gone to? I want to tell him I'm sorry…"

"That's probably not a good idea," she said in a sing-song voice.

"I know…but. Do you know where he might go to be alone?"

"Well…" She thought for a moment, "He did mention once he's been in the basement before…"

Marik swallowed hard, "…Basement?"

"Yeah…we're not supposed to go down there, but he somehow manages to not get noticed. If some of the other kids or doctors are bothering him, that's where he goes."

"Are you sure?"

"That's what Teddy told me. He's seen him go down there a few times. Right Teddy?"

Marik and Rebecca stared at the doll. Marik felt a little uncomfortable when it didn't respond, but its owner did, "You're so funny, Teddy!" She laughed.

"Right…well, I guess I'll go see if I can find him then," he turned to leave, but Rebecca tugged on his arm.

"Take this with you and give it to him if you see him down there," She said, holding up the drawing she had done. It was a picture of her, Ryou, and the bear all holding hands. Ryou was on the right, Rebecca on the left, and the bear in the middle.

"Okay, I'll do that…oh! Uhm, how exactly do I get to the basement from here?"

"Take Teddy with you, he knows the way!" She said, holding the bear out for him to take.

"Uh…can't you draw me a map, or something?"

She made a pouting face before scribbling something on another piece of paper. She handed him the crudely drawn map and snorted, "Don't blame me if you get lost. Teddy knows the way better than I do!"

"Yeah okay…thanks."

Marik quietly pocketed the map and left the room as calmly as he could. He didn't want to attract any attention to himself, lest he be caught and Hassan found out. That was the last thing he wanted to happen.

* * *

Marik squinted in the dim light, his heart racing. The lights in the tunnel were making things on Rebecca's map very hard to see, and he wondered if he was even in the right place anymore. He looked down at the paper again, more carefully this time, before looking down the hallway. There was a room at the end of the hall. A sign above the frame said 'Boiler Room', and Marik began to regret coming down here. Something about this seemed really familiar, and not in a good way.

_It's okay. That was just a bad dream. Nothing more than that…_

Hands shaking, he tucked the map back in his pocket, and slowly made his way to the boiler room door. He noticed it had been propped open with a wooden door stop, and wondered if Ryou was in there. Carefully, Marik pried the door open a bit more and poked his head inside and looked around. No monsters, no Atem, and no sign of Ryou. He quietly called out the other boy's name, but received no response. Biting his lip, and fighting every instinct telling him not to, he slowly entered the room.

"Ryou? You down here?" He whispered.

Still no response and now he was having trouble breathing from the heat of the room. The walls started to feel like they were closing in on him. Like he was being shut in. _Just like before…I have to get out of here._ But which way was out. It was fairly dark in the room, and Marik realized he couldn't really see the way out through the maze of boilers. He swallowed hard, feeling like his head was spinning. He leaned on one of the boilers for support, trying to even out his breathing when he thought he heard footsteps coming towards him. He knew it wasn't logical, but his mind decided it could be only one person. And his unease turned to panic.

_Run._

Marik sprinted, a short distance before he started to feel even more claustrophobic. His lungs seemed to be caving in on themselves and he had to stop. He fell to his knees, just trying his hardest to breath. He forgot about the footsteps until they were right behind him. A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he screamed, pulling away. When he did so, he turned to face the owner of the hand, and felt relief wash over him when he saw it was Ryou.

"What are you doing down here?"

"I…was looking for you. I wanted to apologize for earlier…and, some girl named Rebecca wanted me to give you this."

Marik took the drawing out and handed it to the older boy. Ryou took it, squinted at it in the dim light before tucking it away into his pocket. Marik watched him and fidgeted a bit when Ryou looked back at him, "Don't know why you thought I was in here…its stifling hot. That's why they keep the door propped open."

"If you weren't in here, then where were you?"

"There's an old store room right before this place. I took the key from my Uncle's office when he wasn't looking. I saw you walk by through the crack in the door, and figured I'd better not let you do something dumb."

"Oh…I thought that…never mind…"

Ryou coughed a bit, the dry air starting to get to him too, "Come on, let's get out of this place."

Marik nodded in agreement and the two boys left the room, heading back upstairs to cooler air. Before Marik and him parted ways, Ryou pulled the younger boy aside, "No telling my Uncle about this, we clear?"

"Yeah…I won't say a word."

"Good…" Ryou nodded before letting him go. As he started to walk away he stopped and turned back to Marik, "Sorry about earlier…"

"It's okay. I'm not mad."

"Thanks…" he paused for a moment, "Did you want to try Go Fish again?"

A smile beamed across Marik's face and he nodded. Ryou gave a small smile back, and the pair headed back to the Day Room to continue their game from the other day.

* * *

"Marik? Are you listening to me?"

The child blinked a few times before focusing back on Hassan. Had he completely zoned out? He couldn't recall what they had been talking about anymore. Was it something to do with sleep? He hadn't slept maybe more than an hour or two, if that, the last two days, and by the gods did he just want to close his eyes.  
_No. No sleeping. I can't…I can't go back there. Gotta stay awake; gotta stay focused._

"Marik?" Hassan asked again, looking at him with more concern.

"Yeah, what?" he asked back, his reply coming out more annoyed then he had intended.

Hassan frowned, "I asked you if you've been having anymore nightmares."

"Huh? Oh, no…no more bad dreams…haven't really been dreaming all that much…"

Doctor Bakura stopped his note taking and looked more closely at the boy sitting across from him. Marik's gaze was unfocused; his eyes shifting to the space behind his doctor's head. They seemed to widen a bit, following something that Hassan couldn't see from his angle. Curious as to what his patient was looking at, he turned and glanced at the space behind him but there was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Have you been sleeping at all?"

"Yeah…of course I have…"

Hassan frowned, looking unconvinced, "Then tell me Marik, what were we talking about before I asked you about your nightmares again?"

The boy stared at him blankly, attempting and failing to recollect what they had discussed. But he could hardly remember anything from even an hour ago, let alone what they had been talking about. He chewed at the skin peeling on his lips and looked over at the wall. When he didn't respond to the question Doctor Bakura had asked him, the doctor did it for him.

"I asked you if you were starting to remember at all why you attacked your father. But it seems you can't even remember five minutes ago…"

"Yeah, so what?"

"'So what' is not an acceptable answer, Marik. You need sleep."

"I need to not dream more…"

Hassan held his head, "You can't just stop sleeping, Marik. It's unhealthy! How long have you been going without sleep?"

Marik didn't respond with anything more than a slight glare, before he stared off at the wall once more. He heard Doctor Bakura growl slightly through slightly clenched teeth, "I will not ask again."

"Maybe two days? I don't know. Does it matter?"

"Does it matter? Only if you'd like to keep living, Marik. Is not dreaming worth sleep deprivation which, if gone unchecked, could kill you?"

The boy was silent a moment before he replied, "Yes…"

"Have you ever even considered these nightmares are trying to tell you something Marik? And instead of running from them, maybe you should try to deal with your demons instead of fleeing from them?"

Marik's eyes narrowed and the boy stood up from his seat, "And have you thought that maybe you need to shut up! Even if I am asleep, it never feels that way anymore. So what's the difference if I do sleep or don't? You don't know how horrible they've been! What I've gone through," he paused a moment before speaking again, "So instead of sitting there like you know, why don't _you_ go take those stupid notes you keep writing about me and my problems and shove them up your ass!" the boy screeched, smacking the clip board out of his doctor's hands.

The clip board went flying across the room, and the papers that had been resting on it went flying into the air. They cascaded down around them like autumn leaves. Doctor Bakura quickly stood from his chair, looming angrily over the boy, his eyes narrowed. Marik realized all too late he had messed up again and he felt himself shrinking under the harsh gaze of the older man in front of him.

"I've heard all I need to hear from you right now. It is clear to me what needs to be done. I'm going to have you get some sleep, whether you want to or not! Because you cannot continue this behavior any longer, Marik," Doctor Bakura seethed, grabbing hold oh his arm, "And maybe this time, you'll find an answer as to why you keep having your nightmares."

"No! No I won't do it!" the boy screeched, tugging hard in the doctor's hold.

Doctor Bakura didn't say another word as he led him back to his room. He kicked and fought the whole way there, but there was no relent form Hassan's grip. He unlocked the door when they had reached the room and practically shoved Marik through the threshold. Marik turned back toward the door in time to see it shut behind him. He ran to the window and peered out. Hassan glared at him for a moment before he walked away. Marik felt his heart leap, and he frantically looked around the room for a place to hide. Only to remember that there really were no places to hide. He tried slipping his fingers between the door and the threshold, but the gap was barely big enough to fit his fingernails through. He pounded on the glass, expecting it would shatter; but deep down he knew he was wasting his time. And soon enough, he saw a guardsmen walking towards his room with Hassan in toe.

The boy backpedaled from the door and scurried over to his bed. Marik wedged himself as far under the bed as he possibly could; covering his head with his hands when he heard the door open once more. He heard Hassan call his name, asking him to come out from under the bed. When he refused to budge, he felt a set of large hands reach under the bed and grab hold of him. Marik kicked out with his legs, but it did not deter the guardsman from hauling him out.

"Careful, he's bitten people before," Marik heard Hassan say as the guard pinned his arms behind him.

Marik felt tears falling from his eyes as he turned to look at Hassan. The doctor was extracting the sedative from a bottle into a syringe. He glanced over at Marik when he noticed the boy looking at him.

"Please…don't make me go back there…I can't take it anymore…" he begged, choked out.

Hassan's face softened as he moved closer, "Marik…" he sighed, pausing for a moment, "I want to make all the bad dreams go away. But I can't help you if you won't help yourself. And you can't help yourself without rest. It's just the way this has to be. I'm sorry."

"I can't face him alone again…he's going to kill me this time…"

Hassan regarded the boy a moment longer, before he reached into his pocket. He pulled from it a small, gold, rubber ball, which he held out for the child to see, "Do you see this, Marik?"

He nodded, not understanding what the big deal about it was. It was an ordinary bouncy ball, gold in color, with some sort of pattern on it. He sniffed his nose and gave Hassan an odd look.

"I'm going to give you this ball. And if you're in trouble while you're asleep, I want you to use it to stop whatever it is that's after you. Can you do that?"

"But it's just a gold, rubber ball…how is that supposed to help me?"

"It can be anything you want it to be, Marik," Hassan said, prepping Marik's hip for the shot, "Or, whatever you need it to be."

Marik howled through gritted teeth when Hassan administered the sedative. When the syringe was empty, he nodded at the guard to let go of the boy. Marik sunk to the floor, feeling defeated. Hassan looked at him for a moment before setting the ball on the bed next to him. As he turned to leave, Marik called out to him.

"Doctor Bakura can…can you stay with me until I fall asleep?" he whimpered.

The doctor looked back, a small, sad smile on his face, "Of course…"

The sedative was starting to take effect. He could feel control being lost in his arms and legs as he tried to climb onto the bed. He felt the doctor helping him lie down and pull the blanket over himself. His vision began to swim as he tried to focus on the doctor's face. Hassan picked up the ball once more and placed it in Marik's hand, closing his fingers around it. Marik pulled the ball close to his chest, his eyes feeling unbelievably heavy. With his last remaining will power, he tried to keep them open. But they continued closing on him. As he opened them one last time, he felt his heart leap when he saw Atem standing there by the door to his room; his mouth split wide with a grin.

"He's here for me…" Marik muttered quietly.

"Who is?"

"Atem…"

"Atem? Who is that? Marik?"

Marik would have answered the question, but the world soon went dark as his eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Groaning, Marik slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room and he glanced around. It was a fairly large space, the walls made from a gray brick. It was a fairly empty space, however, a pile of something collecting dust in the corner. Marik frowned at it, wondering what exactly he was looking at until another thought crossed his mind. Why weren't his feet on the ground? And then he realized…he was suspended above the floor, stuck to the wall. His heart jumped when he finally noticed the warm, gooey sensation covering most of his body. Marik looked down at himself to see he was wrapped in what looked like a red, sticky tissue-like cocoon; his arms pinned out from his body, and useless.

Marik tried very hard not to scream. Whatever had put him in this web couldn't be too far away, and the last thing he wanted was for it to hear him. Whimpering as softly as he possibly could, Marik tried to dislodge one of his arms, but found it could barely move an inch. Growling slightly, he glanced around the room, trying to think of a plan. There had to be something he could do to get free, right? Then he remembered the ball Hassan had given him. The doctor had placed it in his hand just before he'd fallen asleep. But both of his hands were empty. Panicking, he looked around at the substance he was caught in, but the ball wasn't there either. Then he looked around the room, and at first thought that it was simply gone, until he spotted it near the middle of the floor; far away and out of his reach. He must have let go of it while he was unconscious.

Marik pushed against the wall, hoping he might be able to rip free or jar himself loose. But the web was even stronger then the straight jacket he had been in just days before, and his body went limp a bit; his head hanging in defeat. That was until he saw a pair of feet standing near his ball on the floor. He snapped his attention towards the person by the rubber ball, and saw it was the other Marik. The boy bent down, and reached a hand out to pick up the ball, and Marik felt his heart race.

"Hey! Can you bring that to me? I need it to get out of here!"

The boy's hand paused before he picked it off the ground and stood back up, eyes locking with Marik's, "What? This thing?" He sneered at the ball, "You think this little toy that the crackpot doctor gave you is going to do anything for you?"

Something shifted in the shadows in the corners of the ceiling above him, and Marik felt his panic rising, "Yes…please! Let me have it!"

"Oh Marik…" he chuckled, a sad, cruel smile on his lips, "This can't help you. Not right now, at any rate."

"What do you mean? Yes it will, just give it to me!" He nearly screeched, pulling against the gooey web around him as he stretched out his hand.

"You need more time to figure things out, Marik. I told you that you need to start doing things on your own. But, I'll tell you what. I'll hold onto your precious, rubber ball for you," he held it up, letting the dim light sparkle on the surface of the item, before he placed it into his pocket, "And you can have it back when you're ready."

"No, I need it now! Give it to me! Please!"

The other Marik looked up towards the dark ceiling corner and frowned as he turned to leave. Marik yelled after him to come back, but he just kept walking. However, Marik soon forgot about him when the shifting noise above him suddenly got louder. His body began to quiver with fright as he slowly looked upwards, and the screams he had been holding back poured out. For above him was Atem, staring back at him, that horrendous smile carved into his face. The skin around his cheeks had started to sink in, like a grape left out in the sun too long. It seemed he was also starting to rot even further to the point where Marik could start to see bone in some places. But that wasn't the worst of it. The lower half of Atem's body was no longer human, having mutated into the torso of a large, black spider; eight legs and all.

"Now Marik, there's no need for that…" Atem hissed through his razor-like teeth, "Won't you stick around for a while?"

The cries slowly died in the boy's throat, his sense of dread dissolving his screams into tears into pitiful sobs. Marik tried one last time to pull free of the fleshy tendrils until Atem's laughter stole the rest of his resolve.

"You don't need to fight anymore Marik. Just accept this. Accept it, and everything else will cease to matter..."

Marik felt one of the spider's legs brush against his cheek softly, and it was maddening not being able to slap it away or really move his face away from the appendage.

"W-what are you…" the boy choked out.

"What am I?" Atem replied back, getting so close to Marik's face that he could feel the heat from his breath on his skin, "I am anything, and everything. Your beginning, and your end. I am a god; your god, and you would do well to remember that," he purred, tipping Marik's head upwards to look at him.

Marik worked up some of the snot in the back of his throat and spat it at the king's face. It hit the man's cheek with a splat, "That's what I think of your so-called godliness…"

Atem's face quickly devolved into sheer rage as he wiped the spittle off his face. He jumped down from the wall to the floor, quickly turning to face the boy caught in the web once more, "I see you still don't understand the position you're in here, child…" Atem snapped, bringing himself as close to the boy as he could get, the ends of his front legs pressing painfully into both of Marik shoulders. He flinched back, eyes shut tight, wanting to just melt into the wall and disappear as he waited for the monster before him to attack. But when he felt Atem's hand wiping the tears from his cheeks, he forced himself to look at the other.

Atem's features seemed almost sad in that moment, like he had in times past. Marik wasn't sure if that was more unnerving or not. To see him displaying something akin to sympathy just didn't seem right, and it made him even more leery of what the king wanted from him. Atem moved even closer, their bodies touching through the membrane of the web. He rested his head on Marik's shoulder and sighed.

"It doesn't have to be this way Marik…I'm not the monster you keep making me out to be. I can be kind, and loyal. I would be your world; your everything. If you would only just let me…" he whispered, lightly kissing Marik's neck.

The sensation sent a wave of nausea through Marik's stomach, and it took everything he had not to audibly gag. Atem lightly ran his fingers through the boy's hair, his nails catching a bit on the strands as he did so. Marik tried to move his head away, only for Atem to cup his hand around the side of the child's face and brought it back to look at him. Marik locked eyes with him. His own were wide with terror, Atem's were laced with what looked like regret. The king lifted his head away from Marik's shoulder, drawing closer to him.

"Please Marik…" he whispered, voice trembling, lips brushing against his, "Just let me have this…have you…"

Their mouths met in a kiss, and Marik whined in repulsion, unable to pull away, and unable to fight him away with his hands or his feet. The moment he felt Atem's tongue brush against his, he felt his mind snap with anger. He bit down, as hard as he could, and refused to let go. Even as Atem howled in pain and tried to pull away. Even as blood began to seep into his mouth, Marik did not relent. It wasn't until the king's fist and punched him right in the stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs, did he let go.

Atem backed away, covering his mouth as he coughed up the blood welling from the bite. Marik choked, struggling to regain the air that had left him. His whole body felt so weak now. There was no way he could fight back a second time. And Atem seemed to realize that and he moved towards him again.

"You ungrateful little brat…I offer you everything! And what do you do?" He hissed getting very close to Marik's face, "You attack me once more. Have I not been good to you, child?!"

Marik whimpered, flinching away from him, not wanting to respond.

"If that's how you're going to act, Marik…" he tilted the boy's head roughly to the side, exposing his neck, "Then I shall take from you to replace what I've lost."

Atem's mouth opened even wider then Marik imagined; his teeth growing into impossibly large fangs. And Marik screamed when those fangs buried themselves deep into the skin of his neck. He could feel the life fluid gushing out, an endless river draining from his veins. And he started to feel himself slipping into a dark abyss. His eyes slipped closed, and everything became quiet around him as he felt himself fall.

Smack!

Marik cried out, feeling his back hit the floor and he sat up. His room. He was back in his hospital room. And Atem was gone. His blanket was tangled around him, as though he'd been thrashing about. His hand went to his neck to check for the bites, but they were gone. And he breathed out a shaky sigh. He was okay. Suddenly the door lock clicked and it began to open. Marik stood up, expecting to be Hassan coming to check on him. But when the door opened, it wasn't Hassn standing there, or even Yugi.

"Having a bad dream, Marik?" Atem smirked, stepping into the room. He was dressed like one of the doctors of Kane Hill, wearing one of their lab coats over a polo shirt and a pair of black slacks.

No, no he couldn't still be asleep. Marik backpedaled, tripping over the blanket still wrapped around him. The backs of his knees hit the bed frame, forcing him to sit. He frantically looked around the floor for the gold ball again. But he realized all too quickly that it was still gone. Atem put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back against the wall. Marik grunted from the impact and tried to sit back up until he saw the scalpel blade clutched in the man's hand. The light glinted off the stainless steel as Atem brought it closer to his neck. He pressed the blade to the fabric of Marik's shirt, and made a cut all the way down the front.

"Stop it!" Marik wailed, trying to hold him back. But his body still felt so tired, he couldn't muster up more than a pitiful shove.

Atem pushed the shirt aside, running his hands along the contours of Marik's chest as the boy squirmed. Marik tried to crawl away to the side only to be pushed against the bed with a firm shove. Atem straddled the boy's hips and grabbed hold of his wrists, holding them above his head to keep him from going anywhere.

"How long must we play this game, Marik? How much longer will you continue to fight me? I grow tired of your constant resistance."

Marik writhed, trying to free his hands. But the more he struggled, the more his strength seemed to fade. He was so mentally drained that he just couldn't seem to muster any more energy. Maybe he should just let the king do whatever it was he wanted. Maybe then he'd finally leave him alone. The boy whimpered quietly in defeat, shutting his eyes, "Just get it over with…"

Atem chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from Marik's face, "Giving up after all of that fuss?" he purred, leaning in closer.

"You heard me…just do whatever you wanted to already. I can't fight anymore…I'm so tired…" he sobbed, starting to cry.

Atem shushed him as he kissed the boy's forehead, "My poor child…I didn't mean to cause you so much stress. If you had submitted in the beginning you wouldn't be so tired now…" he sighed, looking down at him with pity, "Don't worry. Soon, things will feel better, I promise."

Atem nuzzled Marik's cheek, slowly moving to his lips to kiss him. Marik's quiet sobs became muffled under the king's mouth, and he felt his mind begin to wander elsewhere to distance himself from what was really going on. And he thought of time he spent with his brother and sister at home. What he would do when he saw them again. Maybe Rishid would finally take him to get that new bike he'd seen at the store so he wouldn't have to use Ishizu's old, blue one anymore. The one with the red and silver paint, and the big, thick tires; the one he imagined went really fast. And he'd make tea with his sister, and listen to her play songs on the ney that had once belonged to their mother. Even now, he thought he could hear it in the distance. Lulling him into a peaceful state, where he knew he was safe at home.

_Home…I have to get home. I promised myself I would. I can't give up now. I can't let him win._

Atem screaming in pain brought him back from his trance-like state. Startled, Marik sat up to see what was going on. There was the other boy, latched onto Atem, a gold knife buried into the man's back. He locked eyes with Marik and shouted at him, "What are you waiting for? Go!"

Marik sat there stunned for a few seconds longer before he nodded and scrambled off the bed and out of the room. Atem's screams echoed after him, but he paid them no mind as he ran down the seemingly endless corridor that stretched out before him. How could he have almost forgotten them, his brother and sister, his whole reason for wanting to leave this place? Silently he prayed for forgiveness, and promised he would try harder to get home. Try harder to be with them again. A light suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor, nearly blinding Marik from its intensity. But he continued towards it, his feet moving faster and faster. He was almost there. Almost. It was so bright now, he had to shut his eyes, or surly he would go blind.

Someone touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes again. It was Hassan. The light from the hall was shining in his eyes from the open door. He stared at the doctor, disbelief in his eyes, his breathing hard, as though he really had been running.

"Am…am I awake?"

Hassan nodded, "I was about to leave, but one of the night staff nurses said you were becoming increasingly distressed in your sleep. So I gave you a reversal agent to bring you off the sedative. You might still feel a little groggy though-"

Marik cut Hassan off when he latched onto him tightly. The boy buried his face into the doctor's shirt, his body shaking with relief.

"Goodness…it's alright…" he sighed, patting the boy's back, "It's over now."

"I know…thank you. For showing me the light…"

They sat there in silence a moment or two longer before Hassan cleared his throat, "Marik, I know this might be a bit soon, but I asked you it before you fell asleep and you didn't answer back. Who is Atem?"

Marik, looked off to the side, not saying a word. Hassan spoke again, "Is he the one who's been attacking you?"

"Yes…"

"Who is he, Marik?"

Marik sniffed, rubbing his eyes a bit, "I'm not exactly sure. At first…I thought he was a Pharaoh from Ancient Egypt. But now…now I don't know what he is."

"Can you at least tell me what you do know about this apparition when I meet with you tomorrow?"

"Yeah…" Marik nodded, "I can." _For Ishizu, and for Rishid…  
_

* * *

The Ney mentioned that Ishizu plays is a very old type of end-blown flute, prominently used in Middle Eastern Music. It is one of the oldest instruments, dating back nearly 5,000 years ago.


	8. Angel of Music

"Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real."

― Cormac McCarthy, _All the Pretty Horses_

* * *

 

The office was mostly quiet. A clock was ticking faintly somewhere in the room as he sat there. Occasionally, a set of footsteps would file past the door, but no one entered. Marik sighed and rested his head on the armrest of his chair. Hassan said he had to go get some extra batteries for his recorder and that he'd be back in a few minutes, but those minutes were beginning to drag. The more he was left to stew in his thoughts, the more he felt himself tensing up. He just wanted to get this over with now that he had agreed to it.

_This is a waste of your time…_

Marik flinched at the nagging voice,"This will work. It's got to! I feel like I'm getting worse!"

 _That is because you're not following my instructions. I'm not the enemy here, Marik,_ the voice hissed in his ear. _I have already given you proof of that._

Marik swiped at his ear, feeling like an insect was buzzing around it. He looked around a moment before replying, "Yeah? And look at all the other times you 'helped' me."

_You haven't always needed me. Only at your weakest moments, have I extended my hand to you. And I'm willing to extend it to you once more to show you the path you need-_

"Leave me alone! I don't want-" Marik quieted himself quickly when the door opened and Hassan stepped through.

"Sorry for the wait. You would think we'd have more batteries lying around here," he muttered, popping the back off the recorder.

Marik nodded in silence as the voice spoke to him one last time.

_Very well…continue on with your games with Doctor Bat Shit. But don't forget what I've told you. He cannot open the door for you. Neither can I for that matter. I am simply the one who guards it. Everything else depends on you…_

"Marik?"

The boy jumped a bit, his attention coming back to Hassan, "Huh? Did you say something?"

"I asked if you are ready to get started."

"Y-yeah…let's get this over with."

Doctor Bakura nodded, glancing over his notes once more before he settled on a starting point, "Alright Marik," he began, clicking his pen, "I want you to describe in as much detail as you can, what this Atem looks like. I want to know exactly what you've been dealing with. Don't leave any small detail out, alright?"

"Do I have to?" The boy asked nervously.

Hassan seemed to be trying not to roll his eyes, "No, I suppose you don't have to. But it would make things a lot easier on both of us if you did."

"Sorry," Marik sighed, rubbing his fatigued eyes, "I'll try my best."

Marik took a deep breath and began. He talked about how tall Atem was, what clothing he'd first seen him in, and the color of his skin. From there he described how the man began to deteriorate, slowly becoming a more hideous monster as time passed. But there was one detail Marik couldn't bring himself to mention. And much to his dismay, Doctor Bakura took notice of it.

"Marik, does this Atem have hair? You've yet to mention-"

"Yeah, he has hair. Why?" Marik asked a little too quickly.

"I told you not to leave any detail out when we began. Now tell me, what does it look like?"

Swallowing hard, Marik glanced down at his hands folded in his lap. He tried to tell himself that lying would only lengthen his hospital stay, but the nagging feeling in his mind also told him that telling Hassan might do the same thing. He took a deep breath and sighed outwards.

"Okay, I know this will sound crazy, but…"

"Marik, you don't need to worry if it sounds absurd or not. Just tell me."

"Right…okay," Marik swallowed again, his nervousness making his voice pitch up an octave, "His hair looks almost identical to Doctor Mutou. The same colors, the same shape."

"Are you sure it's not because you saw Doctor Mutou?"

"Yes I'm sure! I started having nightmares when I first got here. I didn't see Doctor Mutou until a few days later. But I have seen pictures of Atem before."

Hassan quirked an eyebrow, "You have?" He asked.

Marik nodded, "He's in my history book at home. He was a Pharaoh that ruled about…five thousand years ago? Maybe three thousand, I can't remember. But he wasn't in power for very long."

"I see…what else was there about him in this book?"

Marik rubbed his head as he tried to remember, feeling a bit of a headache coming on, "It said he had a court of magicians who could conjure up powerful creatures."

"And what would they do with these monsters?"

"I…"

Marik stopped suddenly, his head pounding all of a sudden. He whined and rubbed at his temples with the palms of his hands.

"I don't know…my head hurts really bad…"

"It's alright Marik," Hassan soothed, "Let's talk about something else then, alright? Why don't you tell me a little bit about when you started seeing this apparition?"

Marik nodded, head still pounding. He sighed, taking a moment to collect his thoughts on the subject at hand.

"I started off floating in a river…no, the Nile. And I came to rest on the bank…"

* * *

"For the last time, Rebecca, I have no more room on my walls for another of your drawings."

"Please Ryou! You've got to have some place to put it…"

"I told you no already! Just give the drawing to someone else, okay?"

Marik frowned as he observed the two from across the room. Hassan had let him go early when discussing the nightmares was becoming too much. He said they would talk more in their next session. For the moment, Marik just wanted some peace of mind, maybe talk or play a game with Ryou. But he seemed to have his own issues at the moment. He sighed and debated going to do something else until the white-haired teen made tracks to the nearest corner away from Rebecca. The girl looked a bit dejected, until she saw Marik looking at her from across the room. She smiled and hurried over to him, much to the boy's mild annoyance.

"Marik, do you want my drawing? Ryou said he doesn't have room for it…"

She held out the crayon drawing for him to take. It was of a little girl in a white dress with hair a dark shade of blue. The look on her small, petite face was serene and calm. But what struck Marik the most about the simple drawing were the large, white wings that stretched out from her back. He didn't know much about other religious beliefs, but his sister had told him about angels. And the girl in the image certainly looked the part. He hesitated to take it until he saw the pleading look in Rebecca's eyes, and he gave in.

She grinned wide when he accepted her offer before skipping off to another part of the room. He looked over the picture for another moment before tucking it away inside the pocket on his shirt. He set about scouring for Ryou once more, and found the other boy had moved to sit in one of the windows. He quietly made his way over, tapping Ryou's arm to get the other's attention. He seemed to have been zoned out, for the small touch caused him to jump a bit. Ryou turned to look at Marik and sighed.

"What is it?"

"Just…wanted to talk, I guess," Marik answered quietly.

"About what?"

Marik shrugged and plopped down on the other end of the window ledge, "Not really sure. Anything is fine for me as long as I don't have to talk about my dreams anymore today…"

Ryou gave a frown at the comment but didn't press it and instead went back to looking out the window. Marik decided to take the initiative to start.

"So uh…have you been okay today?"

Ryou snorted, "Is my Uncle rubbing off on you, or something?" he grumbled, looking at the boy.

"No, I was just wondering."

Shrugging, Ryou turned back to the window, smirking a little, "How are any of us here really okay? I think that's a bit rhetorical, don't you?"

"You might be right…" Marik sighed in agreement.

"Hey, don't take it that way."

"It's true though, at least, in my case it is. Everything in my head is so messed up right now. I just want it to stop."

Ryou was quiet a moment before replying, "Yeah…mine too."

Marik looked at the other boy expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate. But Ryou remained silent as per usual. The two boys sat there a moment, simply looking out the window. The afternoon sun shone through the blinds, casting banded shadows across him and Ryou. It felt comfortably warm, and he wished he could feel it with the slight breeze that was going on outside. He imagined himself lifting off the ground. A pair of large, tawny wings stretching out from his back. The wind rushed through his hair as he rose higher. The brisk air smelled sweet, like freshly blooming flowers in the spring.

Marik sighed and opened his eyes. He was still on the windowsill with Ryou; still inside. His face fell a bit, and he hugged his knees to his chest. The crinkle of the drawing in his pocket reminded him that he still had it, and the boy removed the folded piece of paper. The blue-haired angel smiled back at him. He lightly ran his fingers of the feathers over her white wings. The crayon left them feeling slightly waxy in return. Marik envied the serenity she seemed to hold, and longed for it to be his own. He held the drawing to his chest as if trying to draw the happiness of the little girl into himself. Then maybe he could go home.

"What are you doing?"

Marik jumped when Ryou suddenly spoke to him and looked over at the older boy, "I…well, nothing, I suppose."

Ryou stared at him a moment before turning back to the window again. He was silent for a long time, his eyes becoming slightly glassy before he finally talked once more.

"Truth is…I have plenty of room for that drawing. Most of the stuff that girl draws for me I just pitch in the trash."

Marik blinked and frowned a bit, "That's kind of mean."

Ryou simply shrugged at the comment, "She doesn't know I do it."

"So why not take this one?" Marik asked.

"It's…complicated."

"You can tell me."

"I've told it enough to my Uncle. I really don't feel like reiterating it to some kid."

Sighing, Marik looked away. He pondered something Rebecca told him the first time they had met. He gazed at drawing once more and something seemed to click in his head, "It reminds you of your sister, doesn't it?" He blurted out.

Ryou visibly stiffened at the remark. Marik saw his hands clench tightly in his lap.

"Who told you about her?" Ryou hissed.

Marik shrunk back a bit, "I…Rebecca mentioned it in passing once. I don't really know anything about her. But…she's dead isn't she?"

The other boy's jaw was set into a small frown, "Yes…" he replied.

Marik glanced away, "I'm sorry," He said quietly.

"Sorry doesn't bring anyone back, so why say it?" Ryou growled, standing up. He turned to leave until he felt Marik grab hold of his arm.

"Let go of me," he snarled.

"Ryou, I…I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well you did. So just leave me alone. I'm tired of you and my uncle patronizing me!"

"I'm not patronizing you," Marik frowned, letting go of Ryou's arm, "I just…"

"Just what?"

"Wanted a friend."

Marik looked down at the floor, his throat feeling tight as he tried not to get himself anymore upset. But the constriction only got worse, and he felt tears welling at the corners of his eyes, "I just…never had a real friend before," he sniffed, rubbing his eyes, "I've always been home schooled. Not many kids live near our house."

"I don't have any friends either, and you don't see me crying about it," Ryou huffed, "Amane was the so called social butterfly of the family, not me."

"Amane?"

"My sister."

"Oh…"

Ryou was silent a moment before he spoke again, "Look this…I don't want to talk about it right now," he muttered as he turned away from the other boy.

"Don't we all have to talk about stuff we don't want to here?"

The white-haired teen glanced back at him, expression unreadable, "And just what is it you don't want to talk about? Your nightmares?"

Now it was Marik's turn to be silent. Faintly in the deep recesses of his mind he though he heard the faintest of screams. But he shook his head, dismissing the noise. He looked back to Ryou, who was still waiting on his reply, "I…I'm not really sure."

"You're not sure?" He snorted, "You want me to tell you my skeletons, but when I ask you, 'you don't know'," He laughed bitterly, "Some friend…"

"Look I…"

"Save it. We're done here," He snapped at Marik before he started to walk away.

Marik's heart leapt. He wanted Ryou to stay, at least for a little longer. And before he could really stop himself, he blurted the words out.

"Your Uncle said that…I'm the reason my father is dead."

Ryou stopped and looked back at him, his expression still unreadable. But Ryou wasn't the only one that was looking. A few of the other patients must have overheard because they had glanced his direction. The presence of their gazes was beginning to burn, and he didn't feel like staying in the room anymore. Standing, Marik made tracks for the door. He thought he heard Ryou tell him to wait, but he pushed forward. If Ryou made attempts to follow it was short lived; Marik next found himself near the front lobby with no trace of his Doctor's nephew in sight.

There were a few other patients moving in between the corridors along with a passing nurse or two. To his right behind a set of thick, glass doors, there were some benches and chairs. A few people not dressed in hospital attire were dispersed on them. They must have been family of someone who was here. And the thought made him ache for his own. Marik quietly retreated from the door into the middle of the hexagonal lobby that branched off into the different wings of the hospital. He was about to head for the dining hall to see if there was anything he might eat, when a door off to his left caught his attention. Frowning, the boy walked closer, and saw there were letters on the glass of the door that read 'Patients Belongings'.

_Just like the door in my dream._

Heart beat pounding in his ear drums, Marik marched forward. His lips felt dry, and he instinctively licked them as he walked closer. His mind was a whirr with thoughts. Some fleeting that he soon forgot. But there was one that kept coming to the forefront of his mind.

_Behind the door lies the truth. And I'm the only one who can open it…_

He had reached the doorknob, his hand starting to shake. Could the answers he was looking for really be in this room? He had to know for sure. Marik tugged and twisted the knob, but the door was locked shut. No, it couldn't be shut. He needed to get in here. He pulled on the knob again, forcing his weight against the door as he did so, trying to get the lock to release. And although the door shuddered, it held strong. Growling with frustration, Marik was about to slam his hand into the glass, when someone grabbed his arm from behind.

Surprised, Marik smacked into the door with a thud. He turned to look and saw that one of the doctors had him by the wrist.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to get in this room. Can you let me in?" Marik asked, still a bit winded from hitting the door.

"Patients aren't allowed in this room…Marik," He said, looking at the boy's wrist band, "If there's something in there that is yours, then its being held until your release or until it is safe to give it to you."

"But what if it's something that can help me leave?"

The doctor gave him an incredulous look and started escorting Marik back into the lobby proper, "Then I suggest you talk to whoever your assigned consultant is. They can go check on your behalf. You try getting in here again and you'll be getting more than a mild verbal reprimand. Understood?"

Marik sighed and nodded. The Doctor returned the nod, and let go of his arm, "On your way then."

* * *

The sheets on his bed rustled as he turned over on his side. Hassan had told him to at least try to sleep, but his mind was racing too fast. His doctor had said he would check in the morning if Marik had any effects stored in the room, but he wanted to know now. If it meant getting to go home then why did he have to wait for it? Sighing, he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. The boy shut his eyes trying to relax enough to fall asleep, when he heard what sounded like someone tapping on glass. Turning his head towards the door to his room, Marik opened one eye to see what was making the noise. He sat up suddenly when he saw Ryou's face in the small viewing window.

Ryou glanced around the hall before beckoning him to come closer. Curious, Marik got up and approached the window. He frowned, quirking an eyebrow at the teen as if he were asking why the white-haired boy was there. Ryou checked the hall once more before his muffled reply filtered through the glass.

"Was looking for you earlier, but you weren't around."

Looking for him? Marik eyed him incredulously; feeling like something seemed a little different about the other boy. At least from what little he knew about Ryou. If he'd been looking for him, then why hadn't he come after him earlier?

"Why come and talk to me now? Don't we have some sort of curfew?"

"Well, I needed some time to think about what I wanted to say."

A prickle of unease ran through him and he turned away slightly. Part of him wanted to hear what it was the other boy had to say, yet he wondered if it would only be teasing and ridicule for what he had done. The minutes ticked by as Ryou gathered his thoughts, the silence starting to make him twitch. Finally, Ryou spoke.

"What you said before, about your dad…"

"What about it?"

"My sister, Amane, I'm the reason she's dead."

"You…you killed your sister?" Marik half stuttered, eyes getting a bit wide.

"I might as well have," Ryou murmured, resting his head against the door, "She wouldn't have killed herself if it wasn't for me…"

Marik felt his hands shaking a bit as he moved closer to the glass, "What did you do to her?"

"It's not what I did to her…it's what I said to her," he chuckled.

Marik felt his stomach twist at the sound. The laugh was so cold; so empty. He swallowed and asked Ryou what he had said. When he remained silent, Marik thought he hadn't heard the question.

"Ryou?"

Ryou still didn't reply, sliding down to sit on the floor. Marik tapped on the window, trying to get a response from him, but Ryou just sat there looking dejected. Frowning, Marik looked around for some way to get his attention when Ryou finally spoke.

"Hey Marik?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think…Amane is in heaven? Watching me right now?"

 _Heaven…wasn't that place like the Afterlife?_ Marik wondered to himself. He didn't know much other then there were supposedly angels there, like the one in the drawing Rebecca had given to him. He took the drawing out from his shirt pocket and looked at it.

"I…she could be. I don't know too much about heaven."

"I wonder if she forgives me at all," Ryou continued as if he hadn't heard him, "Or if she's waiting for me there."

"I'm sure she is," he replied looking at the drawing. He looked at the open slot in the door that the nurses put food trays through and slipped the folded drawing through it.

The paper landed lightly on the floor next to Ryou, catching the boy's attention. He picked it up, unfurling the drawing and looking at it for a long while.

"I think you should keep it Ryou. I mean, it was meant for you originally anyway."

"Yeah, I guess," Ryou murmured as he stood up, "I'll…see you later or something. Night."

Marik nodded and returned the goodnight, feeling very uneasy about how empty Ryou's eyes had looked as he turned to leave. He quietly returned to his bed and settled down under the covers, closed his eyes, and attempted to rest once more.

* * *

Marik was woken by Nurse Mazaki the following morning, much to his surprise. As he rubbed the crusted remains of what little sleep he got from his eyes, he asked her where Hassan was.

"Doctor Hassan is busy this morning. He's also not going to be able to see you this afternoon."

"Why not?" He asked with a hard frown.

"It's confidential Marik, I'm sorry."

The boy snorted and crawled out of the bed, "Everything here is. Did Doctor Hassan find anything of mine in the Patient's Belongings room?"

Nurse Mazaki shook her head, "He hasn't had the time yet."

"Great…so what am I supposed to do now then?"

"I can take you to the day room if you'd like?"

Marik sighed, "I'd rather go to the library, actually. I haven't read in a long time."

"Of course," she replied.

* * *

Marik shivered a bit, feeling the nurse's eyes on him as he combed through the spines of the books. When he found one that piqued his interest, he pulled it down and brought it over to the table. Nurse Mazaki remained where she was by the door, keeping a silent vigil on the boy until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to see Doctor Bakura standing there. His face was distraught looking.

"Have you seen any sign of him yet?" He asked quietly.

"No…I was going to make sure Marik was situated before going to look some more," Anzu replied in the same muted tone.

At the sound of the familiar voice, Marik glanced up from the pages of the book at the two staff members by the library entrance. He was surprised to see Hassan there considering he was supposed to be busy. The doctor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Alright…I'm going to check the kitchen again. I've got staff looking for him in the other ward halls. Page me if you find anything at all. I don't care what it is."

The boy frowned the longer he listened. What were the doctors and nurses looking for?

Nurse Mazaki nodded, "I will. Don't worry sir, we'll find him."

"I know. I know," Hassan sighed, "I just…it's only been a year since I lost my niece. I can't lose Ryou too…"

Anzu lightly patted his shoulder, "Come on, we'll go search for him together."

Doctor Bakura nodded and the pair left the room. As they left, Marik felt his heart skip a beat. They were looking for Ryou. Ryou was missing and they couldn't find him in the hospital. What if something had happened to him? The image of Ryou's empty eyes resurfaced, and a hard lump started forming in his throat. Book forgotten, Marik quietly slipped from the room. He had to know if Ryou was alright. He had to find his friend.


	9. Thanatos Instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had forgotten to update ao3's version of this, so I will be posting the three most recent chapters now.
> 
> Trigger Warnings (and spoilers): Cutting, Stabbing, Blood, Attempted Suicide, Character Death

"There are memories that time does not erase... Forever does not make loss forgettable, only bearable."

― Cassandra Clare, _City of Heavenly Fire_

* * *

 

Rebecca sat quietly humming to herself. She was in one of the chairs gathered near an old television set in the day room. The screen flickered every so often and the color seemed to be slightly off. It was playing a rerun of some kid's show that he'd forgotten the name to, but he didn't care to think on it. That wasn't why he was here. Marik spotted her when he caught sight of the bear in her lap and hurried over to her and urgently tapped her shoulder.

She jumped, turning to look at him, "What's the big idea?"

Marik shushed her, trying to keep the attention off of them, "Rebecca, have you seen Ryou at all today?" He asked.

She frowned, thinking to herself for a moment, "Now that you mention it, I haven't seen him. He's probably just sleeping still."

Shaking his head, Marik felt his heart racing, "I overheard Doctor Bakura and Nurse Mazaki. They said he's missing."

"Missing?" She nearly shouted.

Marik waved his hands to get her to quiet down again, "Yes…and I'm worried. I think we should go look for him."

"But aren't the doctors looking for him?"

"They are, but they've been looking all over and haven't found him yet. I just want to make sure he's okay."

"Well…" she paused, "There's only one place I can think of that he might be."

Marik nodded, "Yeah I know. But it's too dark down there to really see."

"That's okay I have a flashlight in my room. I use it to keep the shadows away at night. I can go get it if you want?"

Marik smiled and nodded, "Yeah. Go get it and let's meet by the basement stairs in a few minutes, okay?"

* * *

Marik and Rebecca slowly made their way down the basement stairs. This was probably the only place that Hassan had not thought to look. And Marik didn't blame him. Though he couldn't understand how Ryou could stand it down here. The tunnel like halls still filled him with a sense of dread, even though it was now illuminated by the flashlight Rebecca had retrieved from her room. His eyes glanced around the hall, looking for the door Ryou had mentioned the last time the two of them had been down here, but it seemed to still be further down.

Rebecca clutched to the back of his shirt. Mildly annoying, but he decided not to say anything. She was probably as scared of this place as he was. When the door finally came into view, Marik noticed that it was slightly ajar. It also sounded like someone was rummaging through boxes. He looked at Rebecca over his shoulder and motioned for her to stay quiet. She nodded and the two of them moved closer to the storage room.

The door was only a few steps from them, and the sound of someone digging around in boxes seemed more frantic. Marik covered the light with his hand and stepped to the threshold of the room. Poking his head through the open door, he spotted someone hunched over a cardboard box. A few lay strewn around, filled with what he assumed was medical supplies. Swallowing the bit of nervous bile rising in his throat, Marik moved closer.

He could see the person a little better now, even if it was just their backside. They were wearing a set of patient scrubs like he and Rebecca were. Passing the flashlight off to his companion, Marik made to walk closer until the person straightened up. Even in the dim light, Marik could see Ryou's white hair as clear as day, and he felt relief wash over him. They had found him. He was alright.

"Ryou, there you are!" he called out, "I was worried something bad happened to you. Are you okay?"

Ryou glanced over his shoulder at the pair in the doorway, and Marik felt his smile fading. Ryou's eyes still bore that empty look they had from the night before. And when he gazed upon him and Rebecca, they grew even colder.

"Why are you here?" he growled.

Frowning, Marik drew closer, "What do you mean? The whole hospital staff is looking for you!"

"Did anyone follow you?!"

Flinching, Marik took a step back. He bumped into Rebecca who whined in protest.

"No…why would we be followed? Are you okay?" Marik asked.

"I'm fine. Now leave!" Ryou shouted, his shoulders tensing.

"Hey, easy! We just-"

Ryou turned to face them; the hard shadows from the flashlight making him seem even angrier. It glinted off something clutched tightly in his right hand. The shine drew Marik's eyes to it, and he felt his dread start to grow.

"I said leave. Now."

"Ryou," he swallowed, "Why do you have that scalpel?" He asked, feeling Rebecca shift position behind him.

"It's none of your fucking business," he growled, clutching the scalpel tighter, "None of it was your fucking business!"

"What are you talking about?"

Ryou chuckled, "As if you don't know…you wouldn't stop hounding me to speak about it for the last few days!"

"I...Ryou, I'm sorry. I was just-"

"Just trying to help?" He sneered, taking a step towards Marik, "I never asked for your fucking help! Nor did I ever want it! And I swear to God, if you and that little brat don't get the hell out of here," he paused, grabbing Marik by the front of his shirt, "I will carve your throat out like a fucking jack-o-lantern!"

Marik froze, feeling the cold, sharp edge of the blade pressed firmly against his neck. He dared not look Ryou in the eyes; hardly breathing as the other boy held him there. Rebecca let off a startled cry behind him.

"Ryou, don't-"

"Rebecca, don't you dare get any closer to me," Ryou hissed, pulling Marik closer, "Or his blood is on you. Do you understand?"

Marik could see tears forming in the girl's eyes reflecting in the beam of the flashlight. She nodded, not saying another word.

Marik swallowed, trying to stay as calm as one could with a knife pressed to their throat, "It's going to be okay Rebecca," He said, nodding at her, "Ryou…please, just calm-"

"Shut up! I am through being fucking calm! I am done with all of this bullshit! You, my uncle, the tests, the pills; I'm sick of it!" He shouted, voice starting to crack, "I just need to see her again…be with her again. I need to tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry. Amane, oh god, I'm so sorry…"

"Ryou…"

"And now you're here and fucking everything up!"

"I was only worried about you!"

Ryou's voice started to warble more, "I just want to be left alone. That's all I ever wanted. I could have been with Amane a long time ago if everyone would have just left me alone!"

Ryou was hysterical now; his words coming out a hodgepodge of sobbing and laughter. And Marik felt his grip on the knife slack. Not a lot, but enough where the blade was no longer flush with his skin. His thoughts raced. He had to get the scalpel away from Ryou. Ducking out from Ryou's grip, he latched onto the other boy's right arm. It didn't take long for Ryou to notice, and he tried to force Marik to let go. The two struggled against the other: Marik trying to pry Ryou's fingers apart to make him drop the scalpel, and Ryou trying to pull his arm free. The white-haired boy was screaming at him. No words, just guttural noises as he fought for control. He landed a punch to Marik's stomach, taking his breath away. The boy dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

"Rebecca," he choked out, "I need help!"

He glanced over at her where she stood frozen by the door. She was shaking with terror and still clutching her flashlight. Turning back, Marik saw Ryou unwinding the bandages that were on his left arm. The wrappings pulled loose, fluttering to the floor like feathers plucked from a wing. And in the dim light, Marik could faintly make out long, straight cuts running down Ryou's arm. They had begun to scab over. He stared at Ryou's arm, then at the scalpel. He realized that Ryou had done that to himself, and that he was going to it again.

"Ryou, no!" Marik shouted, grabbing hold of his arm once more.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"Give me the knife, please! You don't want to hurt yourself anymore!"

"You don't know shit about me!" The older boy snarled, pushing on Marik's smaller frame with his free hand, "You didn't drive someone over the edge! You didn't cause someone to stare into the abyss and not be able to look back. The abyss that I deserve to be in…"

Marik looked him in the eyes and held on tighter, "But think of your sister! If she were here, she'd want you to stop. I'm sure of it!"

"You never even met her! How could you possibly know? If I were her, I'd never be able to forgive someone for such a thing!"

"What if she does?"

"No…" he said quietly, "How could she? How could anyone? My parents couldn't do it. Why do you think they put me in this damn nut house?"

"Because you're their son…they care about you!"

"Care about me?" He laughed, "No one in my family cares about me anymore. Especially not my parents! I saw the way they looked at me afterwards when they thought I wasn't looking; after Amane killed herself. They can't even look me in the eyes anymore…I've shamed our whole family! I took away the music from their lives, and mine. And for that, there is only one fate I deserve. And neither you, nor my Uncle, are going to change that."

Ryou punched at him with his free hand, and it took every ounce of willpower not to let go a second time. Even as he felt Ryou's fist hitting his ribs. Marik knew he couldn't hold out forever, and he screamed at Rebecca for help. That Ryou needed both of them. Realization swept over her face. Dropping the flashlight, she ran over and latched onto Ryou's waist. He stopped mid punch and attempted to pry the girl off. All the while, still trying to get his arm free of Marik's grip.

"Rebecca, don't let him go, okay?"

"Okay!" She shouted back.

Marik grabbed hold of Ryou's wrist and pulled his hand down, still trying to get him to release the scalpel. But his grip was so tight that his fingers were beginning to turn cold around the steel. Not willing to relinquish to the boy, Ryou tugged his arm back, but the two younger children were starting to tire him out. He stepped back and tried to pull free again, but the box he had been digging in swallowed his foot. And the three tumbled backwards into the shelf, bringing various medical supplies down with them as Ryou's back hit the floor. Rebecca and Marik landed on him as the boxes fell down.

Marik covered his head until the debris had stopped. He slowly sat up when the dust had settled. Shaking a bit he glanced over at Rebecca to ask if she was alright. But Rebecca wasn't looking at him. She was staring past him at something on the ground making a strange, gurgling sound. The flashlight beam illuminated the room from where it sat on the floor, casting an eerie glow around them. Marik turned to see what it was and saw Ryou lying there on the floor, clutching at his throat. He was choking and there was blood welling from his mouth. The scalpel that had been so desperate to hold onto now buried in his throat. Ryou's hand was still clutched tightly around it. His eyes had gone wide with confusion.

Rebecca started screaming, and Marik felt his mind racing. He scrambled over to Ryou, trying not to be sick. Blood was leaking out of his nose and where the scalpel lay lodged in his throat. He pressed his hands as close to the wound as he could while trying to keep Ryou from moving too much.

"Ryou just hold on, okay?! You're going to be alright, I promise!" He choked out, head starting to buzz, "Just keep looking at me, alright?" He turned back to look at Rebecca and shouted at her to get help, but she had her hands clamped over her eyes. Horrified screams continued to peal from her throat as he felt Ryou grab onto the sleeve of his shirt. Marik's attention immediately snapped back to him.

The white-haired boy sounded like he was trying to speak, and Marik leaned in to try and hear him over the ringing in his ears. But all that came out was a garbled noise and a bloody bubble. It burst, splattering over Marik's face, making him flinch. Trying to ignore it, he held his hands tighter over the wound. That's what he needed to do right? Keep pressure applied to stop the bleeding? But there was so much and it was getting everywhere: on his clothes, his skin, the floor. It was spreading out around Ryou's head, dying his hair ruby.

"I'm so sorry…I didn't mean it. Please don't be mad, just hold on. Rebecca, go get help, now!"

Still the girl refused to move, rooted to the spot. Marik pressed tighter to the wound, desperately trying to keep Ryou alive. The teen choked again and Marik strained his ears to try and make out the words. But he shook his head, unable to understand. Instead, Ryou pointed at Marik, then at himself. He tapped at the side pocket on his own shirt, andMarik glanced down at it. There was something sticking out: a folded piece of paper. Marik snatched it up and recognized it almost instantly: it was the blue-haired angel that Rebecca had drawn. Ryou's hand clutched Marik's that held the drawing and roughly shoved it towards Marik's chest. Marik nodded, and tucked away. Marik kept repeating that he was going to be okay as the hand grasping his lost its grip. It smacked to the floor with a hollow sounding plop. Ryou's bright green eyes glassed over into a sickly gray. The life draining out of them as a single tear fell down his blood stained cheek. He let off one final, raspy breath before his body became still.

"R-Ryou? Ryou!"

Marik tapped the lifeless face, but he gave no response. Marik's hands were shaking as he drew them away from Ryou. He was dead. _He's dead because of me. That knife was in his throat because I fell on him. It's my fault. I did this oh god, I…_

…Marik saw his father turn around as he was bringing the tea tray with him into the study. He seemed to be skimming the books, unawares of the boy's presence in the room even as he set the silver tray down. Normally, Marik would have poured it right away, but he was skipping the formalities today. He glanced at his father once, still facing away from him, then back to the tray. He could see where the handle of the kitchen knife he had taken was sticking out from under the platter. Quietly, Marik grabbed hold of the handle and slipped it out from under. He took the kettle of hot tea in his other hand and walked closer.

"Did you pour the tea yet?" The older man asked, glancing over at his son.

Marik stopped mid step, knife half raised as a horrified expression graced his father's face.

"Marik…Marik, what are you doing? Put that down!"

His eyes shifted to the knife then back to his father and he stepped closer. What he was doing had to be done. He just kept repeating to himself over and over. This was for the best; for both of them.

"Marik!"

Marik threw the contents of tea kettle as hard as he could. His father howled as the hot water seared his skin, too distracted by the pain to notice Marik. And that's when he drove the knife into his chest. His father was screaming as he fell to the floor, but Marik felt no pity. He was still screaming and therefore still breathing. He pulled the knife out and thrust it in again.

"Marik stop! Please, I-" The second strike of the knife cut him off mid sentence, and all Marik's father could do was scream at the child.

But Marik didn't relent; each stab of the knife went further into his skin. His father held his arms in front of his face, but it did little to deter the boy. Blood sprayed out when he brought the blade into his father's throat. No longer able to grovel, the man sputtered and choked on the blood pooling into his mouth. He reached a hand out towards Marik in a last attempt to get through to him, but the emptiness in the child's eyes told him it was meaningless.

Marik started screaming. He hacked into him with the knife over and over; the blade smacking wetly against skin, muscle and bone. Flaying the man open like an animal ripe for slaughter. And he kept going, even long after his father and grown still. His clothes and hair were peppered with blood as it splattered in every direction. And Marik began to laugh with delight at the sight before him. Even as a strong pair of hands reached around his shoulders and hauled him off his father's body. Still he laughed as his brother pried the knife from his hand. His sister was screaming somewhere behind him…

A masculine voice broke through the dark, "What the hell's going on down here? You kids aren't…Christ in Heaven!"

Marik soon realized that the screaming he was hearing was dying in Rebecca's throat as the room faded back into focus. His head whipped towards the door to see a janitor standing there looking horrified.

"Please…help…" Marik managed to stutter before he felt his body grow heavy. He pitched forward, the floor rushing up to meet him, as the world went dark.

* * *

" _Ryou? Oh my God, Ryou, no…"_

Marik felt himself coming to moments later when someone placed a strong substance under his nose. He tried to move his head away from it, but it seemed to follow him until he finally managed to pry open his eyes. There was a doctor bent over him that he didn't recognize. He looked off to the side at someone else in the room.

"Doctor Bakura, he's coming around."

Marik turned to look as well. Hassan was crouched near Ryou's body, hand lightly tucking a loose strand of hair away from the teen's face before moving to his eyes; slowly and gently closing them.

"Hassan?" The other doctor asked quietly.

"I'll be with him in a moment…"

Marik slowly sat upright, feeling himself pitch forward. The doctor steadied the boy to keep him from hitting the floor again. Groaning, Marik held his head. He felt like the room was spinning around at him. Rebecca was gone. One of the doctor's must have removed her from the room. He glanced back at Hassan and Ryou. The doctor was laying his lab coat over the top of the other boy before taking a step back.

"Call the pathologist down here and have him take Ryou up to the morgue. I need to speak with Marik alone."

The other doctor nodded, making sure Marik was stable enough to let go before heading out of the room. Marik rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head. But the image of Ryou clinging to life, of his _father_ clinging to life, kept replaying through his mind's eye. He looked at his shaking hands; the blood was slowly drying on his skin.

"Father…" he whispered.

"Marik?"

Sniffing, Marik looked up at him. Hassan bent down to his level, face unreadable, but eyes belaying his grief. The shame and regret he felt in that moment was so overwhelming that he began to sob. The doctor pulled him into a hug, patting his back.

"It's alright…"

"No it's not…this is my fault."

Hassan looked down at him, "Marik this was not your fault-"

"Yes it is! Yes it is…" he cried, "I did this...I tried to stop him, but," he glanced over at the coat covering Ryou, "I only made things worse. The knife is in his throat because of me. Just like my father…"

Hassan blinked, and looked down at him, "What?"

"You were right Doctor Bakura…" he said quietly, "I did kill him. I took a knife from the kitchen and I stabbed him with it. And I just kept doing it. I didn't stop. I couldn't stop."

"Marik…"

"But why," he looked up at Hassan again, "Maybe I really am crazy…"

"Marik, I-" Hassan sighed and released the boy, "I think we can talk about this later."

"Okay…"

Doctor Bakura stood and offered his patient his hand, "For now let's… just get you cleaned up."

Marik nodded without another word, using the Doctor's aid to get to his feet. His knees shook as he took a few steps, and Hassan had to support him. As they moved to the door, Marik glanced back at Ryou, still lying motionless on the floor. Hassan noticed him looking, and gently turned his head away.

"You don't need to look at that. Come on," Hassan murmured, ushering the pair of them out of the room. He grabbed hold of the door and partially shut it before he and Marik made the climb back upstairs.


	10. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had forgotten to update ao3's version of this, so I will be posting the three most recent chapters now.

"The sad truth is the truth is sad."

― Lemony Snicket - _The Hostile Hospital_

* * *

 

"I am truly sorry about all of this Mr. Hopkins," Hassan sighed, as he finished signing a form.

The man sitting across from his desk, Arthur Hopkins, regarded the doctor with a cold look, "Sorry does not fix the psychological harm that has been further caused to my granddaughter," he snorted.

"I understand," the doctor replied, glancing at Rebecca a moment. She sat there silently, eyes cloudy and distant due to the sedative she'd been given. Hassan breathed out before turning back to the older man, "Take this to reception, they'll bring you any of Rebecca's personal effects to the front. You'll be free to take her home then."

Doctor Bakura pushed the discharge form towards Arthur who snatched it up, "Unfortunately she won't be going home. I'm taking her somewhere she'll actually get the care she should have had in the first place!"

Arthur helped Rebecca up from her seat, and walked her to the door. He stopped just short of leaving and turned back to Hassan.

"Your superiors will be hearing from me, I can assure you that."

Arthur Hopkins slammed the door in his wake leaving Hassan alone in the office. The doctor held his head a moment, glancing at a framed photo on his desk. The smiles of Ryou and Amane gleamed back at him from behind the slightly dusty sheet of glass. Frowning, the doctor gently set the picture down on its front.

* * *

Marik lay still, looking up at the ceiling of his room. The morning staff nurse would be coming to let him out of his room soon. Not that it mattered. There was no one to talk with; Rebecca had disappeared, and Ryou was…gone. Hell, he hadn't seen Hassan either for a few days. Of course he hadn't felt like doing much since the incident in the basement; hadn't felt at all, really. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. His whole body seemed to feel leaden, and achy. A thick, cloudiness occupied his thoughts that he could not shake. On top of it all was fractured sleep that seldom came to him the last few nights, if it chose to at all. He was surprised they hadn't tried to give him another shot to make him sleep. Perhaps Hassan had told them not to after last time?

The door lock unlatched and someone walked in. He assumed it was a nurse, but couldn't muster the energy to look and see. They tapped on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts. Marik glanced to his right and was surprised to see the elusive Doctor Bakura there knelt next to the bed.

"I'm sorry I haven't been here the last few days. I had to…take care of things with Ryou," he paused, "Have you slept at all?"

"Not really. I did try, but…"

"It's alright. I haven't been sleeping well either."

"Because of Ryou?" Marik asked.

Hassan nodded, looking away from the boy. Marik felt his insides clench, and he sat upright.

"Doctor Bakura, I didn't…. it was an accident. I swear-"

"I don't doubt that it was, Marik," Hassan sighed, looking back at him.

His eyes seemed so sad. Marik had never seen him like this before. The doctor had always been so confident in their past meetings. But with Ryou's death, he couldn't blame him for feeling this way. And even though he accepted it as an accident, Marik still felt a prickle of guilt inside. If he had only been stronger, maybe he could have gotten the knife out of Ryou's hand. Maybe talk Ryou out of it if he had said the right things. But what more could he have possibly said? He'd been wracking his brain for days trying to figure out those questions. He had yet to find the answers.

Doctor Bakura seemed to sense what he was thinking, and put a hand on his shoulder in response. Marik glanced at the hand, then at Hassan.

"None of this was your fault. Ryou was…Ryou was very lost. I tried my best to help him find his way, but I don't think he wanted to be found. Rebecca told me after we got her calmed down that you tried to talk to him, but he didn't want to listen. You did what you could Marik, and I did what I could. But mishaps occur that we can't always account for."

"And what about me? What I did to my father…it wasn't on accident, was it?"

"I don't know. But we'll work on this together, I promise."

Marik stared at him for a long time, nodding his head slowly, "Okay…"

* * *

Marik walked with the doctor in silence, eyes on the floor, as they made their way to his office. He didn't have the energy to look anywhere else. He was surprised he was even mustering the strength to walk. But he kept telling himself this was for his own good. Even if all he wanted to do was lie down and not get up. Besides, the walk wasn't too far. They should almost be there by now.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, bringing him to a halt. He glanced up to see Nurse Mazaki standing there in front of him.

"You need to watch where you're walking, Marik."

"Sorry…" he murmured to her.

"Just be more careful," she advised before turning to Hassan, "Sir, I thought I should let you know this before you get to your office."

"Let me know about what?" Hassan frowned.

"The Hospital Director is waiting for you there."

"What? How long has he been here?"

"Roughly ten minutes. I tried to page you, but you must have yours shut off."

Hassan cursed under his breath and looked down at Marik, "I'm sorry. I'll be as quick as I can. Just sit in one of the chairs outside while I speak with him, alright?"

"Um, okay," he nodded in reply.

"I shouldn't be too long, I hope," the doctor sighed.

Hassan turned away and hurried the rest of the way to his office without another word. Marik frowned as the doctor retreated, slowly following behind him. He plopped into one of the chairs next to the office door a little harder then he intended; his feet dangling an inch or so off the floor. He swayed them a bit as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

"I hope you don't take too long either…"

* * *

"Sir…" Hassan acknowledged, bowing a bit, "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

The Hospital Director stood at the far end of the room, glancing over the reading material that was available in the office. The other man turned from skimming them to Hassan when he heard the greeting. He frowned a bit, pushing the spine of the one he had been taking out back down amongst the others.

"Just don't make it a habit," he said, walking towards Hassan's desk.

Doctor Bakura followed; sitting down behind the desk as the Director also took a seat. That's when he noticed a file folder laying on the top of his desk. He was always meticulous about his patients' files, so where had it come from? He looked across the desk to the Director and frowned.

"Normally you call me ahead of time to schedule a meeting. Has something urgent come up?"

"The hospital has received a formal complaint. One that is potentially harmful to our image as a place of healing."

Hassan scowled a bit, "I assume this has to do with the withdrawal of Rebecca Hopkins from our residence?"

"That is merely the half of the problem," the Director replied, gesturing to the file on Hassan's desk, "After the complaint was filed, I did some research into the matter."

"Did you, now?"

"Yes," he sighed, face becoming a bit softer, "I'm sorry about your nephew, Hassan."

"I should have expected the news would travel fast," Doctor Bakura chuckled, his face falling, "He's at peace now. At least that's my hope," He muttered, glancing at the face down photo on his desk.

"I hope for that as well…" he paused, "However, it is Ryou's death that I have come here to discuss with you."

Hassan clenched his jaw, glaring daggers at the other man, "Must we? My sister and I have only just buried the boy, and you want to reopen the still raw wounds?"

"I realize this is painful for you, but I am concerned for the other patients."

"What could it possibly have to do with the welfare of the other patients?" He growled.

The Director opened the file folder. Inside were images from Ryou's autopsy and of his death in the basement store room.

"You see, doctor, due to your carelessness and lackadaisical security, one of our patients died under your watch."

Hassan felt himself looking away from the photographs, unable to take the stare of those cold, green eyes. The Director was silent as he spread the images out across the surface of the desk. Hassan clenched his fist at the sound of the paper shuffling.

"Why are you doing this?"

He stopped, glancing up at Hassan, "Because I don't want to see what happened to him happen to anyone else."

"What happened to Ryou was an accident-"

"An accident? Is that what the boy told you?" He snorted, "Hassan, leaving your master key to the building where your nephew could find it was an accident. But this I'm unconvinced it should be labeled as such…"

"That…Marik _did not_ kill Ryou. He was trying to help him!"

The Director stood, easily towering over Hassan, "Just like when he attempted to strangle Ryou prior; a detail that you yourself added to his records?"

"He was in an agitated state from having to take a blood test-"

"I suppose he was 'agitated' with his father as well?"

"I…am still trying to help him figure that out…" Hassan hissed.

"And while you do, what happens when another patient or staff member gets attacked? Lest we forget when he bit Doctor Mutou." He rebuffed.

Hassan looked down, "Marik isn't going to attack anyone else," he said.

"You don't sound confident in that, doctor," the Director frowned, folding his arms, "I realize your intentions are good natured, but this is a risk I must avoid taking. That is why I'm ordering the transfer of the patient to our violent ward."

Hassan's head snapped up, his eyes wide, "You can't send him there! He's just a child, Seto!"

"A child that has a body count; one that I do not wish to see grow."

"He's only going to shut down and retreat further into himself if he goes there, and I'm finally making headway with the boy. He might not open up to someone else. I implore you to reconsider!"

Director Kaiba sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You cannot guarantee that his behavior will not escalate. And the staff here is not equipped to handle that. Suppose he turns on you as well?"

"He won't."

There was a long pause before the Director spoke again, "Until it has been determined that he is safe to be around, that is where he will stay. This is not up for debate. He's to be transferred in the morning. I'll make the necessary arrangements for him."

"Please, Sir…don't do this to him. He's been through enough."

"So have you, Doctor," Seto said, staring him eye to eye, "Some time away from each other will be good for the both of you, lest you use the boy as an emotional crutch in your current state of mind."

Hassan hung his head in defeat. Director Kaiba regarded him a moment longer, placing the contents back in the file, before heading towards the office door, "Someone will be here at 8:00 a.m. to retrieve him. So have him ready for transport by then," he paused, "And you would do well to be more careful in the future, Doctor Bakura. Consider this your warning. Should something like this happen again, I will not hesitate to have your license suspended. Have I made myself clear?"

"Quite…"

The Director nodded, leaving the office without another word.

* * *

Marik jumped; startled when the door opened. He looked up, expecting Hassan to be there. Instead there was a much taller man in a white suit. He had short brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. He stopped to look at him a moment before continuing on his way. Shivering as unease crept up the back of his neck, Marik watched him leave before hoping out of the chair and heading into his doctor's office. He was surprised to see Doctor Bakura sitting at his desk, holding his head, as if in pain.

"Are you okay?"

Hassan looked up at him before turning his eyes away, "Yes, I'm alright…" he sighed, "Shall we start your session for today?"

"Uhm, sure," Marik frowned, looking closer at the older man, "You sure everything is okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Hassan snapped, causing Marik to flinch. He sighed again, "Sorry, I'm just…not myself today."

The child stared at him a moment, "Maybe we shouldn't talk today then? I'd understand if you didn't want to."

Hassan seemed surprised by the boy's response, and smiled a little, "I appreciate the concern from you Marik, but you don't need to worry about me. I promise," He paused a moment, "Why don't you and I take a walk? Get some air. I don't think you've had any for a few days now."

Marik tried to smile at the idea, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to do so. Something didn't seem right. Perhaps it was because he could tell the doctor was putting on a face. Not that the façade was holding up very well. But he seemed more…withdrawn then he had before. It could have been a number of things; perhaps Ryou was on his mind again? But he hadn't seemed this despondent earlier.

 _What had the Director said to him?_ Come to think of it, he thought he'd heard them arguing behind the door. About what, he couldn't be sure on the specifics. Although the glare he had received from the Hospital Director made him wonder if it had something to do with him. He felt unease start to slither through his mind. He glanced up at the desk, eyes skimming over the objects strewn about on it. He stopped when he saw the manila file folder in the center. There was a name on it: Ryou. Hassan seemed to notice what he was staring at it, and so snatched the item up. Carrying it over to his file cabinet and placing it within one of the drawers.

"Now then, Marik-"

"Am I in trouble?" the boy blurted out.

"What gave you that idea?" Hassan frowned, turning back to him.

"I just…I don't know," he looked away, "I feel like I am."

Hassan stood up and sighed, "Marik, you're not in trouble. Now stop plaguing yourself with such nonsense," he said, walking around the desk to him, "Let's take that walk. It doesn't have to be long if you're not up to it. But…I'd like you to at least get some air."

There was that look again. The look Hassan gave to him when he wasn't being completely honest. Marik vaguely recalled seeing it the day they had first met, when the doctor wouldn't tell him why he was there. And Marik was without a doubt certain that file had been about him. Hassan extending his hand to him was what drew him from his thoughts.

"Let's get going."

Marik frowned and crossed his arms, "I want the truth first."

"The truth?"

"The truth of why the Hospital Director was here. It had to do with me, didn't it?"

"Marik, that's absurd. Of course he wasn't. Now come on," he persisted, holding his hand out again.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me…" the boy growled.

"There is nothing to tell," the doctor insisted, his tone becoming strained.

Marik sneered, standing up from the chair and shoving it to the floor, "Liar! You never tell me the full truth about anything, and I'm sick of it! It's no wonder Ryou didn't like talking with you anymore! You treat everyone like they're stupid!"

"That is enough, Marik!" Hassan bellowed, grabbing hold of the boy's wrist, "You are way out of line!"

Marik screeched, pulled his hand free, and picked up a pencil holder off the desk. He chucked it at Hassan. The doctor just managed to duck out of the way as the small mesh cylinder went sailing past his head. It crashed into the wall behind him, sending pencils scattering to the floor. As Hassan was standing back up, Marik grabbed the next thing within reach: a picture frame. He threw it as hard as he could. When the doctor turned back to him, it hit him right in the forehead. Hassan hit the floor with an audible thud.

Marik's breathed heavily, watching the spot the doctor had gone down at. But Hassan wasn't getting back up. Was he just out cold or? He felt panic starting to set in. Marik looked down at his hands, thoughts running in circles. _If I did that then…maybe I really..._ the boy pondered. A voice laughed at him in the back of his mind, and Marik felt himself flinch. A film of tears began to cloud his eyes. He took a step away from the desk, running for the door to Hassan's office and not looking back.

* * *

Hassan looked back at Marik in time for another object to clock him in the right temple. His back hit the floor as his vision clouded over in a black haze. A moment later, he heard the boy's footfalls running for the door; slamming shut behind him. Groaning, Hassan tried to open his eyes, but found the light from the ceiling to be too bright. He quickly shut them and rubbed his throbbing temple, frowning when he felt a warm trickle of blood running down the side of his face. Marik must have thrown whatever that was pretty hard. He was far stronger then he appeared to be.

_Suppose he turns on you as well?_

It seemed irony thought it was being amusing today. Oh how cruel a mistress she could be. The Director would be taunting him for sure had he still been in the office. Hassan clasped his hand tightly around the cut before slowly sitting himself upright. Marik was long gone by now. To where, he hadn't the foggiest. Grasping the back of his chair, Hassan managed to lift himself to his feet. He staggered a bit, still dizzy from the blow, and felt something crunch under his shoe. He looked down, lifting his foot to see the framed picture of Ryou and Amane. The glass now cracked in a spider web across their smiling faces.

A pang of remorse shot through him. He would have bent down to retrieve it, had the door to his office not opened. He glanced over and saw Anzu Mazaki standing there.

"Sir, I saw Marik taking off down the hall way, is everything-" she paused when she saw the blood flowing through his fingers, "You're bleeding. What on earth happened?"

"It's just a scratch, nothing to worry over…"

Anzu frowned, walking over to him. She pulled his hand away from his face, revealing an inch and a half long gash across the right side of his forehead.

"Well, it seems shallow enough that I don't think it will need stitches. You're lucky," she commented.

Hassan snorted, smiling a little, "Funny. I don't feel lucky…"

"Be grateful I don't make you need them," she rebuffed, "Now sit down. I'll go get some gauze for that."

"It can wait," Hassan dismissed, "Did you see where Marik-Oof!"

Anzu shoved the doctor down into his chair, "Hassan, call someone else to go look for him. If I come back to find you've moved from this spot, I can guarantee the next time you see me sutures _will_ be involved."

Hassan threw up his hands in surrender. Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere, Anzu left. The doctor sighed, looking down at the broken frame next to his chair. He reached down to retrieve it. Hassan brought the photo closer, a drop of blood spatting down on the glass as he did so; followed closely by a few tears. He wiped them away with his thumb. It smeared together, leaving a rosy trail across Ryou's face in its wake. The doctor closed his eyes, and sighed loudly.

"Forgive me Ryou…" he muttered, "There's nothing more I could have done."

* * *

Unsure of where else to go, with no one else to turn to, Marik found himself back at the door to the hospital basement. He wasn't surprised to find it now secured with a padlock; but perhaps he was also a bit disappointed? After all there weren't many places he could go without the doctors noticing him. The boy sighed and sat down in front of the door. He sniffed, wiping at his eyes as thoughts of Ryou flashed through his head. He tried to get himself to stop, wiping frantically at his eyes until the skin was raw, but still he wept.

Marik finally stopped rubbing his eyes long enough to take the drawing from his pocket. The last thing he had of both Rebecca and Ryou. He traced his fingers over the blood-stained angel, and thought it almost fitting. Something so innocent, so pure, was now tainted.

_Like me…_

He sat there for a few moments, pondering the words that had crossed his mind, before a staff member happened upon him. He looked over at her, face dejected but accepting. The boy offered no resistance as the nurse escorted him back to his room. When he was once again locked within the empty four walls, he sat down on his bed; chin resting on his knees as he hugged his legs to his chest.

Marik's eyes began to feel leaden after a while, and he blinked trying to force them to stay open. But eventually the struggle became too much, and he let them slip closed. He couldn't be certain how long the peaceful dark stayed with him, but at some point he saw someone standing there in the distance; a pair of large white wings extending from their shoulders. Frowning, Marik called out to them. Though he heard no sound come from his mouth, the other person seemed to hear him. They turned around, and Marik felt his breath catch in his throat.

_Ryou?_

Ryou looked at him, and smiled sadly. The feathers on his wings were billowing in a phantom breeze. They slowly started dropping, blowing towards him in a great white cloud. Marik covered his eyes until the breeze settled down. He looked up to where Ryou had been standing moments before, but the other boy was now gone; the white feathers still falling around him like snow. He held his hand out to catch one as it sailed downwards. It lighted on his palm, and Marik brought it closer. The veins were spotted with blood. He turned it over once in his hand, before holding it to his chest. Marik sighed and closed his eyes again.

The sound of a door opening made him open them again. His vision was bleary, and he had to blink a few times to get the crust of sleep to leave them before he could see properly. Hassan was standing there in the doorway; gauze taped on the right side of his forehead. The doctor and the patient stared eye to eye for several minutes. Hassan was the first to break the unrelenting silence.

"There's something I should have voiced to you yesterday morning."

"Yesterday?"

Hassan nodded, "You fell asleep shortly after the nurse brought you back."

"Oh. What was it you should have told me?" Marik asked.

"I wasn't telling you the whole truth. I'm sorry…"

Marik regarded him silently, not saying a word to him. When he gave no reply, Hassan continued.

"When I met with the Director the other morning, I had no idea what it was he wanted to speak to me about. But you were right Marik; the conversation did have to do with you."

Marik looked down at the floor, "I knew I was in trouble…"

"Marik you're not in trouble," Hassan sighed, "But, the Director is worried about you hurting other patients-"

"I don't want to hurt anyone!"

There was another pause before Hassan spoke again, "I argued in your defense on that matter. But after your outburst the other day, I'm inclined to believe that perhaps his words do have some merit to them."

Marik could feel his mouth getting dry, "W-what are you saying?" He managed to choke out.

"The Director has ordered you be moved to our violent ward; effective today. There is someone coming to pick you up to take you to the building on the other side of the hospital campus. They should be here in a few minutes."

Marik stared him down silently, anger frothing in his stomach the longer he looked at Hassan.

"So that's it then. You're just…giving up on me?"

"I'm not giving up! But-"

"You promised you'd help me! You said we'd figure out what was wrong together!"

"I don't have a choice in this matter either, Marik. My hands are tied."

The boy's face darkened, eyes wet with oncoming tears, "He was right…" Marik murmured.

"Pardon?" Hassan asked.

"I should have listened to him from the start. He told me you couldn't help me, and he was right!"

Hassan frowned, "Who told you that?"

"What does it matter to you anymore?" Marik screamed, "Don't bother acting like you care now, I'm done talking to you!"

The doctor's face fell, "But I do care what happens to you. I care about all of my patients. If it were up to me, I-"

"Just…shut up."

Doctor Bakura sighed, looking off to the side, "Very well. But I do have to ask that you come with me. I have to take you to the front for pick up."

"What if I won't go?"

"Marik, either you come with me of your own volition, or I have you sedated. The latter I'd like to avoid if possible."

"Fine…" he growled, getting up off the bed, "Let's get this over with…"

* * *

A black car was parked near the entrance to the hospital as Marik and Doctor Bakura made their way outside. A man stood next to it. Marik neither knew nor cared about who they were, and paid little attention as Hassan spoke to him. Briefly he glimpsed as his former doctor handed over a file folder.

"…he's calm for the moment, so he has not been sedated. It's a short trip, so you should be alright," Hassan commented, looking down at Marik.

Marik looked at the doctor out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and then went back to staring at his own feet. He was startled into looking back up when the other man tapped him on the shoulder. He gently ushered Marik towards the backseat of the car, and the boy reluctantly climbed inside. The door shut behind him, and he hazarded a glance at Hassan as the man climbed into the driver's seat. Hassan looked back at him, his expression unreadable as the engine started up. Marik watched him from the window until he was too far away to see. He sat back down in the seat and remained quiet the rest of the drive.

* * *

The building soon loomed into view, and Marik peered out the window as they entered the drive. The building was solid brick, the yard surrounded by a high fence. The windows were clad with thick, iron bars; a striking difference to the Juvenile Ward's. The car stopped at a gate briefly before continuing past it to the front entrance of the building where it finally came to a full stop. A moment later the door opened and he climbed out of the car. There was another Doctor waiting there for him at the door.

He was a little taller than Hassan with shaggy blond hair and hazel eyes. However, he seemed more distinctly Asian than Hassan did. He looked down at Marik, seeming almost surprised. Marik wondered why, but chose not to ask.

"You must be Marik," he greeted, "My name is Katsuya Jonouchi, and I'll be taking over your treatment while you're here."

"Jo-na-ooh-shi?" Marik struggled with the pronunciation of his last name.

"If it's too difficult to remember, just call me Jono," he smiled.

"Okay…" Marik sighed

The new doctor seemed to sense Marik was uncomfortable and frowned a little.

"Well, let's get you settled in. I've got some things we need to discuss afterwards," he informed the child.

Marik just nodded as the new doctor led him inside. The boy stopped to steal one last glance of the outside before the doors shut behind him. He had a feeling it would be the last time he'd get to see it for a long time.


	11. Visions of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had forgotten to update ao3's version of this, so I will be posting the three most recent chapters now. This is the last of the three.

"We each need to make peace with our own memories. We have all done things that make us flinch."

― Surya Das

* * *

 

Marik sat down in the chair offered to him by Doctor Jonouchi. They had arrived at his office after taking a brief moment to show Marik where he would be sleeping. It didn't offer much more than the room he'd had in the Juvenile Ward, but it at least had a window, sink and toilet as well as a bed. Better than nothing, he supposed.

The boy looked over at his new doctor, watching as he skimmed over the file that Hassan had handed over. It was a few minutes before Jonouchi finished looking through it. He closed the file and took a seat behind his desk.

"Right. Forgive me if it takes a day or so to catch up on your session notes from Doctor Bakura. For now," he paused, "Are there any questions you have for me?"

Marik stared back at him, sighing a little, "When do I get to go home?"

Jonouchi frowned, "It could be a few days or it could be a few weeks, Marik. We need to make sure you're safe to be around other people before that happens."

"Oh. Right…" he muttered, looking off to the side.

"I know this hasn't been easy for you," He comforted, "Losing your father, losing a fellow patient, and then having to be shuffled off to a new doctor in a new building? It's alright to be upset about it."

Marik simply shrugged. He was staring out one of the windows, watching a nearby tree sway in the breeze.

"I guess I'm just not sure how I feel right now…" the boy stated, glancing at Jonouchi.

"That's alright too. Difficult situations can drain us of motivation; of energy."

Marik frowned a bit and shifted his focus back to the tree outside. Doctor Jonouchi sighed, sensing that Marik was pulling away from him.

"Were there any other questions you had, Marik?"

"I just…want to sleep now."

"You're not hungry?"

Shaking his head, Marik stood up, "Didn't sleep well last night…"

"Alright, I'll take you back. Come on."

* * *

The unfamiliarity of the room was unsettling. Water plopped from the faucet in the sink, echoing as it hit the rim of the drain, sliding down into the darkness of the pipes. There were a few places where a former occupant had scratched things into the paint on the walls. Small pictures, words, tally marks; most of it didn't make sense to him though. The door of the room offered little privacy, as it was very thick Plexiglas. Marik assumed it was so they could be watched at all times. He curled up on the bed, hugging his pillow tightly. Marik buried his face into it, listening to the occasional drops of water still falling in the sink. They seemed to get louder the longer he lay there.

 _Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

Ryou's face came to mind. His eyes glossed over; a film of tears around the rims. Blood crusted around his nose and mouth. That last, garbled, sputtering breath escaping from his throat…

"Stop it…"

_Marik…Marik, what are you doing? Put that down!_

"Stop it, stop it!" Marik screamed aloud. He clutched at his hair and pulled.

 _Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

Marik screamed again, the drops of water starting to drive him mad. He sat upright in the bed, about to throw his pillow at the sink when he saw someone standing at the other end of the room.

 _Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

Blood was trickling down, making a puddle near the person's feet. Marik slowly looked up at them; faintly noting that their arms were all scratched up. When he got to their face, Marik felt himself pause. There was a gash in the boy's neck, oozing down the front of his shirt. His bright green eyes bore into him from beneath streaks of gore leaden white hair. A garbled noise emanated from his throat.

"R-Ryou?"

Ryou said nothing, exhaling short, raspy breaths as he took a step towards Marik; stumbling as he moved closer. His hand reached out for the other boy; fingers dripping rubies on the floor. Marik made to scuttle backwards, only to hit the wall behind him almost instantly. When Ryou's hand was inches from his face, so close that Marik could smell and taste the tang of iron, he shut his eyes tightly and screamed.

The next thing he knew someone was grasping hold of his shoulders. He shrieked, slapping out at the person in front of him.

"Oi! Marik, it's alright!"

"Stop touching me!"

"Marik, its Doctor Jono. Take it easy!"

When Marik finally managed to open his eyes he realized that Ryou, had he really been there at all, was gone now. Shaking, the boy pulled away.

"Marik it's alright. Were you having a bad dream?"

"I….no, I'm fine. Please go…"

"Are you sure you don't-"

"I said go!"

Jonouchi regarded the boy with an air of mild frustration, "I can see where Hassan had his issues with you," He sighed rubbing his forehead, "Marik, please tell me what it is you saw."

"Nothing…I saw no one."

"Was it this 'other boy' you've seen before?"

"No…shut up…"

"Was it…what was his name? Atem?"

"I said shut up! Why do none of you ever listen to me?"

"Ignoring the problem doesn't make it go away, Marik. You want to get better, don't you?" Doctor Jonouchi asked him.

"I just want to go home! I don't care about anything else!"

Sighing, the doctor stood back up, "Well I hope you start caring soon Marik. You and I will have some things to discuss later, so you'd best start thinking on it. I'll be back in a little while, after you've had some time to calm down."

Marik glared at him as he turned to leave. The door shut behind the doctor with a loud click. The boy stared the door down a moment longer as the doctor walked away before chucking his pillow across the room. It landed a few inches from the door with a soft thump. Wincing a bit, Marik felt a dull ache in his side. It took him a moment to remember why the pain was there and he sighed. He lifted up his shirt to look at the five or so fist-sized bruises that were just starting to fade to yellow across his sides and chest: a memento that Ryou had left him of that day.

Marik lowered his shirt and stood up to retrieve his pillow from the floor. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that gave him pause. The undersides of his eyes were dark, no doubt due to his lack of decent rest. His hair was no better; looking like someone had run it through a wind tunnel. He'd have to ask for a hair brush later. Marik touched it lightly, frowning when he felt how dingy it was. His fingers slowly moved to the lines across his cheeks, the ones he'd carved with his own fingernails.

It was odd, but he almost looked older. Not by much, but there was something different about his face since the last time he had looked at it. Maybe it was the still fading scratches; maybe it was just because he was tired. Whatever the reason, something in him had changed. He sighed again before turning away from the mirror. He'd seen more of himself than he could stomach.

* * *

An hour later, Doctor Jonouchi returned to the room. It took him several minutes of coaxing to get him to leave the room, but Marik finally agreed to come with the blonde man.

Doctor Jonouchi paced the office for a few minutes as he flipped through Marik's file once again. The child watched him, his expression blank as the man continued to pass by him every minute or so. Finally, the doctor returned to his seat behind the desk.

"Right," he sighed, "Marik I'm going to run a few more assessments on you. From what I can see in your file, Doctor Bakura was not able to get time to properly work on your diagnosis. Nor did he finish your initial evaluation."

"Oh great, more tests…" the boy snorted.

"Tests that are going to help you-"

"They're wasting my time! I don't need tests, I need to go home!" Marik growled.

"I'm sure you've heard this before, but I can't let you leave until we've determined what is wrong, treat it, and get you stable enough to be around other people."

"More like drag me around through the dirt…"

The man seemed to ignore the child's remark, "Why don't we start with finishing your evaluation?"

"Whatever…"

"Now then," he paused, looking over the papers, "I believe this is where you left off at."

Doctor Jonouchi slid the evaluation to Marik across the desk, and he looked down at the questions he had yet to answer. The first of which, made the corner of his mouth twitch:

_Do you ever feel separated from other people like it's you against them?_

It was right after he'd tried to answer that question that he'd passed out. The day he'd first encountered Atem. A stabbing pain flared through his right temple, and he grimaced.

"Do I really have to finish answering these stupid questions?" He asked.

"That depends. Do you want to go home?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well I don't know Marik. You're reluctant to answer these questions, which speaks to your willingness to get better; to go home."

"What? No it doesn't! I just don't want to answer them!"

"But you have to answer them. Otherwise, how will we help determine where you're at mentally?"

Marik growled gripping the edge of the desk, "I don't care about that! I just want to be left alone. I can't even be alone in my room anymore with you watching me through those stupid cameras!"

"I'm sorry, but leaving you alone in your current condition is out of the question. Now I need you to finish answering the evaluation so we can move forward with your treatment."

"It's just a stupid series of questions! How are they supposed to help me?" He screeched, grabbing the paper off the desk and crumpling it into a ball.

Without a word, Jonouchi scribbled something down in the boy's file. Marik felt his anger flare up again, and he chucked the ball of paper as hard as he could at the doctor. It narrowly missed hitting him in the head. Frowning heavily, the man glanced over the paperwork at the boy who looked ready to grab something else to throw.

"Marik, if you throw anything else at me, I will have you placed in the Quiet Room for the rest of the night. Do you understand me?"

The boy glared, but said nothing. He lowered his hand back to his lap, reminding himself of what happened the last time he threw something at a doctor.

"Good. Now then," he paused to pick up the sheet of paper, "If you can finish these questions up for me, you can go back to your room. And you won't have to see me again for the rest of the day alright?"

Marik groaned and rubbed his eyes, feeling as though they were about to overflow. His chest was tight, and he wanted to scream. He tentatively reached his hand out and took the crumpled paper from the doctor, unfolded it, and stared down at one of the questions.

_Do you ever feel separated from other people like it's you against them?_

Marik checked the box next to it that said yes before shoving the paper back across the desk, sneering up at the doctor as he did so.

"Marik, finish the rest of the questions."

"You finish the rest of them! I'm not doing anymore!"

"And why is that?" the doctor asked.

Marik gripped the edge of the desk, hands shaking "Because I'm sick of this…all of it! I can't do this anymore!" he screamed, eyes brimming over, "I just want to go home!"

"Marik," Jonouchi sighed, "I know that you want to go home. I want that for you as well."

"Then why can't I just g-go?" he sobbed.

"Because that's not how this works. I'm sure Doctor Bakura told you-"

"Fuck what he said! Nothing he did helped me! And nothing you're doing is helping either!"

The doctor sighed, resting his forehead in his palm, "Marik, Hassan and I can only help you along so much. At some point, you have to start making strides to help _you_. Nobody can force that part of any treatment on you."

Marik was quiet for a long time; his anger becoming stagnant the longer he sat stewing over Doctor Jonouchi's words until it became but a dull ache in his chest and throat. Eventually he placed his arms on the desk and rested his head down in them. His mind was buzzing with hundreds of thoughts and none of them clear.

"Marik, if you're this upset over this evaluation session, we can do it another day. But I hope that you'll at least try next time."

He sighed, "I guess"

"Maybe you should try getting some rest again. I know you don't get nearly enough of it. Come on," he gestured, standing up.

"What's the point?" the boy muttered to himself, standing up as well, "Sleeping or not sleeping. It's just as bad either way."

* * *

The door to his room shut securely behind him, and he watched Doctor Jonouchi retreat back down the hallway. He waited a few moments before throwing a fist into the Plexiglas of his door. A dull 'thud' reverberated off the walls as he walked towards his bed and flopped down onto the mattress face first.

 _Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

_I'm so angry all the time. Why am I so angry? I never used to be this way…_

_Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

Things used to be so much better before. He had the best siblings in the world. His father was an excellent teacher. And yet, something had gone wrong that day. Something he couldn't quite explain: his decision to take the knife upstairs with him. Even though he could recall the memory, Marik didn't feel as though it was truly his. There was a thin, mist-like veil surrounding it. One that had creeped into the forefront of his mind the longer he listened to the dripping of the faucet.

 _Plip_ , _plip_ , _plip_.

A sob escaped his throat, as his thoughts circulated around the memory; around home. Marik clutched tightly at the sheets on his bed; fingers digging into the soft fibers as his body began to tremble. The droplets mirroring the emptiness he felt within.

_Plip, plip, plip._

"Rishid…Ishizu…I just want to go home…" he whimpered.

"But Marik…you _are_ home."

Startled by the familiar voice he sat bolt upright, only to spring back against a set of thick chains that were shackled around his wrists. Dumbfounded, Marik sat there, his mind racing at what to do. The boy pulled hard against the chains, but with them tethered so low to the ground, he could hardly move.

"My child, you know your struggle is meaningless. Still, it amuses me just how hard you continue to squirm…"

Flinching, Marik faced forward. There was Atem, lounging on a gilded throne. Perching like a tiger that knew its prey was moments from death. He was looking down at the boy, bemused; his chin resting on the back of his hand. Marik glared at him from where he was bound to the floor.

"I'm…I'm not scared of you anymore. I'm going to go home, and you're not stopping me!"

Atem grinned, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth, "Are you now?" the king asked, rising from his seat, "Because I'm quite sure I already informed you, Marik," he hissed, closing the distance between them, "this is your home. Here, with me."

Marik swallowed hard, feeling his arms go slack at his sides, "This is not my home…a-and I would never stay with you!" He screamed.

Atem snorted, bending down to the child's level. His hand brushed a stay hair behind Marik's ear, causing the boy to shudder with disgust. He snapped at the hand as Atem retracted it. Unperturbed, Atem reached down to a small, leather pouch around his hip. He pulled the drawstring open and removed from it a small plant pod. Marik looked over at it with confusion until Atem produced a dagger from his belt and sliced into the side of the pod. A thick, white liquid slowly beaded out from the cut. Before he could utter a word, Atem grabbed hold of the boy's chin, and pulled him closer. Marik could feel the man's hot breath washing over his skin, and he shivered.

"You cannot deny where you belong, Marik," the king purred, "No more than you can deny me."

Atem forced Marik's mouth open, making his jaw pop painfully; the claw-like nails digging into his skin. He held the pod above the boy's mouth and squeezed it. The milky substance dripped down onto the child's tongue. It was a sickly sweet taste. He would have pulled his head away, had the fingers gripping his chin not dug in harder. After a few minutes, Atem shut his mouth. Marik's teeth clacked together, and the liquid quickly ran down his throat.

The boy choked as some of it went down the wrong way. Coughing it back up, it dribbled down the side of his lip. Atem frowned, gently wiping the spittle from Marik's lip before again forcing the child's jaw open. He clutched the pod tighter; allowing more of the liquid to flow down into Marik's waiting lips. He squeezed the pod until it had started to collapse before he ceased. Atem closed the child's mouth more slowly this time.

"Swallow it. All of it."

Marik shook his head fervently, tears welling in his eyes. Atem growled, pulling the child's face closer to his.

"Do not disobey me, child," the king growled, his tone dangerously low, "Swallow it."

Sobbing inwardly, Marik shut his eyes, and forced himself to consume the liquid. His throat was so tight it felt as though he were swallowing a rock. When his mouth was clear, he gasped for air, not having realized he'd been holding his breath. Atem seemed satisfied; even planting a small kiss on Marik's nose.

"Good boy."

Still breathing hard, Marik glared at him, "What…what was that?"

Atem let go of the boy's chin; his face calm once more, "Something to help you relax."

"Re…relax?"

Marik's body was getting heavy. He felt so tired that he couldn't stay upright. He began to sway, pitching forward towards the floor. But it wasn't the floor that caught him. Atem held him in his arms, lightly stroking his shoulder-length, blonde hair. The king hummed to him as he unbound his wrists from the chains. Marik would have pushed him away and ran, but his strength was gone. Having been swept away from him as that liquid had slipped down his throat.

Warmth started to build behind his eyes, slowly spreading out to his arms, legs, fingers and toes. He was so pleasantly numb, he could hardly think. Marik shifted, laying his head on the king's shoulder, gently reaching a hand to touch his arm. Atem smiled and tilted Marik's chin up. The boy's eyes met with his as Atem brushed a strand of hair from his face.

"Don't worry, I'll take you to bed, Marik."

Marik blinked once, feeling himself rise upward as Atem lifted him off the floor. He glanced up at the man, who wasn't looking at down at him. His eyes were focused on something ahead of them. Marik shifted and saw Atem was walking towards a very large, luxurious looking bed that was draped in fine looking silks. All that the boy could think about was how comfortable that bed probably was, and how much he wanted to sleep.

Atem gently set him down, the mattress compressing lightly under his weight. Marik's eyes were so heavy now. He fluttered them open and closed; some part of him still fighting to stay awake. The boy turned his head and looked over at Atem. The king was seated next to him on the bed, watching him, stroking the boy's arm.

"It's alright Marik. Just give in to it. Rest."

"I…don't…"

Atem shushed him, placing a finger on the boy's lips, "Sleep, my child."

"But…"

Atem bent down to him, gently kissing him on the lips, "I promise, it's for your own good."

Marik's will to protest left him, completely swallowed up by the warmth that had consumed his whole body. He shut his eyes for a few moments, lying there in the peaceful glow. He only opened them again when he felt the bed shift. Atem was perched above him; the older man's body was inches from his. A strong hand cupped the side of his face, and Marik touched it lightly. He looked up at the king, feeling frail and weak under the gaze of those powerful, crimson eyes.

Atem's other hand grabbed hold of the boy's hip; stroking it gently through the fabric of his pants. Marik fussed from the feeling, but otherwise the king continued unhindered. Lips, hungry with desire latched onto his, and the boy whined as Atem's tongue brushed against his. Those sharp finger nails were ripping at his clothes, snagging and tearing them open. They dug into his flesh, slicing into his chest like razors. The pain seemed to awaken Marik's mind to the situation.

He squirmed, but could do little to deter Atem; his body still so weary. Marik shut his eyes again; the warmth in his limbs was muddied by the pain. He tried to scream, but could hardly utter a sound as the king deepened the kiss.

Atem finally relinquished his hold on the boy's mouth after several long minutes, and Marik gasped for air he'd been withholding. He breathed hard, looking up at the man hovering over him. The king had an animalistic hunger in his eyes, and Marik felt his heart starting to race. Even as he struggled to sit up, there wasn't anywhere to go. Atem made sure of that, shoving him back down on the bed as he tried.

"No running this time, Marik," He sneered, unlatching the clasp that held his cape.

The silken fabric rolled off his shoulders like a violet waterfall, landing silently in a heap on the floor. The man leaned down close to Marik's ear, his lips lightly brushing against the skin as he whispered to him.

"Now we will become one, my child…"

Marik didn't have time to answer before Atem claimed his mouth in his once more. Hands snaked around him, pulling their bodies closer together. Marik squirmed; his skin feeling like it was burning as the king's touches became more feverish. Mustering what little strength he still had, Marik pushed against the other's chest, pulling away from the kiss.

"S-stop…" he begged, eyes on the verge of overflowing, "Please…just stop…"

Atem frowned at the child. He brushed a stray tear that had fallen down the boy's soft cheek.

"Oh my sweet child," the king whispered as he leaned in close once more, "If only I could. But…I simply love you too much."

Atem pulled him in for a kiss once again, but Marik turned his head away trying to hold the king at bay as best as his shaking arms could. They gave out very quickly, and the man was upon him again. Limbs ensnared around him like serpents; clutching at him as though he were a prey animal. Marik could feel Atem's hold on him getting tighter by the second; choking the life out of him.

Their skin brushing against one another elicited a feral moan from the king. He pulled the child's lower half closer to his, rocking their hips together. Marik cried out, the sensations making his body shudder with disgust. That was all he could take, and the boy pushed against Atem as hard as he could. He soon realized, much to his abstract horror that he could no longer get away. As their bare skin touched one another's, it began to stick; forming together like clay or warm wax.

The boy's muffled screams echoed off the walls as he struggled to get out from under Atem. But the more he moved, the more their flesh amalgamated, and the less he could breathe; the king's mouth having formed a seal over his own. Marik was sure he would pass out for lack of air; was almost praying that he did so he wouldn't have to endure this anymore as Atem disintegrated into an ink-like substance, and began sinking into every pore of his body.

Marik shrieked, writhing on the bed, clawing at his skin as hard as he could. Marik tore at his own hair, ripping great chunks of it from his scalp. His whole being felt as though it was on fire; but he could do little to quench the feeling. He felt like he was rotting; tainted by the blood that was now inside him. He lay there, sobbing, as light footsteps approached him. Marik mustered one last ounce of strength to glance at the source of the noise. There stood the other boy; the other Marik.

"Why…why did you let him do this?"

The other Marik said nothing. He simply watched with a hint of remorse; lightly stroking a loose piece of hair away from Marik's face as he felt his mind succumb to the darkness.

* * *

His eyes snapped open to the view of the plain, white sheets of the bed. Marik quickly sat up, nearly falling back on the mattress as his arms shook. There was heaviness about his body that hadn't been there before, and it seemed to be originating in his stomach. With his legs like pudding, Marik hauled himself off the bed towards the nearby toilet. He'd only managed three steps before his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. Bracing himself on the bowl, Marik heaved once or twice before the vile taste of stomach acid burned the back of his throat.

After several minutes of coughing and spitting, the tremors in his abdominal finally subsided. Marik reached a shaking hand up to flush the toilet before resting his head on the cold porcelain; a string of spittle still hanging from his lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, and then brushed it off on his pant leg.

Marik sat there on the floor, just breathing for what felt like an hour until the door to his room opened, finally catching his attention. Marik turned to look at who it was, but didn't recognize them. They must have been on the staff though: they were wearing a doctor's coat. The man helped him off the floor, making sure he was steady before sitting him on the edge of the bed. He asked Marik if he was alright, and the boy explained he'd been ill, but made no mention of the nightmare.

The doctor touched his forehead, checking for a fever. The boy's skin was clammy, but otherwise felt cool to the touch. Marik would have shooed the hand had he the energy to do so.

"Do you think you're well enough for some fresh air?" The doctor asked.

Marik glanced at him, nodded, and stood up. He felt himself being ushered to the door, head still buzzing from the images running through his mind. He whimpered, massaging his eyes with the palms of his hands as they walked.

* * *

As Marik walked out into the fenced off yard, the first thing that struck him was that there weren't really any other kids around; at least, none that were his age. Most of them looked like they could have been Ryou's age or even older than that. A lump began to swell in his stomach, and he had to force himself not to feel like throwing up again. A few of the other patients looked at the boy, but otherwise paid him no mind. That was fine with him; some of them didn't seem like the type he should speak to anyway.

As he quietly shuffled over to the fence line, he kept his head down, losing himself in his own thoughts. The images of the dream were still crawling over him like swarms of ants, and he wanted nothing more than to scrub his skin raw in the hopes that the feeling would stop. He slowly sank to the gravel that covered the ground, grabbing at the edges of his shirt sleeves. Marik buried his face in his knees in an attempt to keep his sobs muffled. Unfortunately, it didn't stop someone from taking notice of him. At the sound of footsteps approaching him on the gravel, he glanced up.

"Are you alright?" asked the older man.

"I'm fine, leave me alone," he sniffed looking away.

The man extended his hand down to the boy, a handkerchief clutched lightly in his fingers. Marik glanced over at it, but otherwise paid it no mind.

"Go on, take it."

Sighing, Marik grabbed hold of the cloth and tugged it towards him. He frowned slightly when he saw that attached to it was another cloth. He tugged it again and there was a third one attached before he heard the other man starting to cackle at him and he let go of it, anger flaring up. Growling, Marik stood up and glared at the laughing man. He was tall, lanky, and his dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"It's not funny! S-shut up!"

The laughter died to an amused rumble as the man looked down at Marik.

"On the contrary young master I thought it was quite entertaining."

Marik snorted and turned to leave when the man grabbed his shoulder.

"Come on, surely you enjoy a good magic trick when it presents itself?"

Marik glared back at him, "Magic trick?"

"Why yes. I used to be quite the famous magician, you know! Pandora, the Great Illusionist!"

The boy rolled his eyes, "Good for you, now let go of me," he growled, pulling his shoulder away from the other's grasp, "And go bother someone else."

The older man feigned sadness, throwing his hand to his forehead, "Ah, but no one else around here enjoys a good show," he looked down at Marik with a smirk, "They're crazy, the lot of them."

Snorting, Marik looked around at the other patients in the yard when one sitting on a bench off to the side caught his attention. He had no hair or a shaved head, eyes staring blankly into space.

"What about that guy? He's not doing anything."

"Who isn't?" Pandora's gaze followed to where Marik was pointing and frowned, "You really are new here, aren't you? Everyone knows not to mess with him."

"Why? He looks like a lifeless doll to me."

Pandora smirked again, "Why don't you go take a stroll over there and say hello?"

A chill ran up Marik's neck as he looked over at the bald man sitting on the bench. He was staring out into space for what seemed like the longest time, almost like a statue. That made it all the more jarring when those dark eyes suddenly darted in his direction. Marik felt himself flinch when they locked gazes, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he backed up. He frowned when he heard Pandora laughing behind him as he steadied himself.

"Okay, so he's a little bit creepy…"

"I'd watch out for him, young master. Especially since he has his eye on you now," he snickered, walking away.

"Now that he…"

Marik paused to look back at the bald man, and he felt that same chill skitter across his skin when he saw that those eyes were still locked on his.


End file.
